#first time drawing Tanya I loved how she came out

[iilovebeam]

Finally drew them :D

#first time drawing Tanya I loved how she came out #I loved how I drew mileena here as well #mileena #tanya #taleena #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #my art

[ukrfeminism]

10 minute read

In early January 2012, Karen Ingala Smith was at the airport returning from holiday when she took a call from a colleague. She heard that a desperate young woman who’d sought help from Nia, the women’s refuge charity Ingala Smith runs, had just been murdered. Once back home, Ingala Smith opened her laptop to find out more.

Searching Google for “woman’s body found”, she soon discovered Nia’s client Kirsty Treloar, 20, the mother of a month-old baby who’d been abducted from her family home in Hackney, east London, by her boyfriend, Myles Williams, from whom she’d recently fled. Stabbing Kirsty’s brother and sister as they tried to stop him, Williams bundled her into his car. Later her body was found two miles away, dumped behind a wheelie bin, with 29 knife wounds.

But this online search yielded other results, so Ingala Smith read on. That same day in Co Durham, Susan McGoldrick, along with her sister Alison Turnbull and niece Tanya, were shot dead by her partner, Michael Atherton. Meanwhile in Nuneaton, nightclub bouncer Aaron Mann had beaten his girlfriend, Claire O’Connor, then smothered her with a pillow. The next day in Shropshire, a retired teacher, Betty Yates, 77, was beaten with her walking stick and stabbed to death by a drifter, Stephen Farrow. On January 3 in Buckinghamshire, Marie McGrory was strangled with a dog lead by her husband, John; in South Lanarkshire Kathleen Milward, 87, was bludgeoned to death by her grandson, Garry Kane.

Through her work, Ingala Smith was grimly familiar with such killings. But this deluge of cases appalled her. Eight British women had been murdered by men – all except one a partner or family member – in the first week of 2012. Each brutal murder, illustrated with a smiling holiday snap, was reported as neutrally as the weather: men killing their womenfolk was “just one of those things”.

“Perhaps because it was the start of the year,” says Ingala Smith. “I made a list of the names, as that’s the easiest way to tell one case from another. And then I never stopped.”

She began trawling local newspaper and police websites, creating an ExCel spreadsheet which she’d update as cases came to court.

It was an upsetting task, which Ingala Smith learnt to avoid just before bedtime. Her data collection method was crude but, until this year, the Office for National Statistics (ONS) only published figures for the sex of victims, not their killers, making female victims of male violence hard to quantify. As her list lengthened Ingala Smith created a Counting Dead Women Twitter account, posting each killing. This attracted public attention and a philanthropist who awarded her a grant to hire part-time staff. Now she could analyse murder trends and since 2015 has published the Femicide Census.

But what mattered most to Ingala Smith were women’s names, not numbers. So in 2016 she was delighted when the Labour MP Jess Phillips – who’d previously worked for Women’s Aid – asked to read them out on International Women’s Day. Now this roll call of more than 120 stolen lives, recited to a hushed House of Commons, has become an annual commemoration. “Dead women is a thing we’ve all just accepted as part of our daily lives,” Phillips said last year, when among the names was Sarah Everard. The list not only put male violence in the national spotlight but, says Ingala Smith, “Family after family have said how important it is to hear their loved one’s name read out in parliament, and know it is recorded in Hansard for ever.”

Now Ingala Smith, 54, has written a book, Defending Women’s Spaces, drawing upon more than 30 years of working with vulnerable women who are homeless or fleeing domestic abuse. After witnessing the power of female-only services she is alarmed by moves to make “gender identity” rather than sex the criteria for admission to refuges and rape survivor groups. She points out that 98 per cent of rapes and 90 per cent of violent crime is committed by males. While “What is a woman?” has become a question politicians struggle to answer, Ingala Smith is categoric. “Allowing biological males with transgender identities to access women’s spaces,” she writes, “poses a serious potential risk to women’s safety, wellbeing and recovery.”

Ingala Smith grew up in a home that was far from harmonious: anger and upset were never far away. The man she called Dad was a builder, providing what she describes as “a comfortable working-class home” in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire. But, she says, he was a controlling man: “It felt the whole family, especially my mum, was always walking on eggshells.”

Eventually, when Ingala Smith was 18, her mother left and confided in a friend that Karen had a different father. In fact, she was the product of a fling at 18 with her fiancé’s best man, a Sicilian who’d moved to Yorkshire to marry a local girl he’d met in Milan. While Ingala Smith’s brother and sister were blond, she was dark and, as she grew older, her mother secretly removed photos from the wedding album in case she noticed how similar she looked to a certain guest.

When Ingala Smith heard about her real father she made contact. At 21 she met him at Thornton railway station, near Bradford. “I was looking for this gorgeous Italian man,” she says. “I’m thinking Robert De Niro, Al Pacino – and actually I got Danny DeVito.” She laughs. They hit it off straight away and she was quickly welcomed into his family, later meeting her Sicilian grandparents.

A bright girl, Ingala Smith found school a sanctuary from her troubled home life. There were few books in her house and she’d never considered A-levels let alone college, “but I happened to have a good friend from what you might call a first generation middle-class family. I remember having my mind blown that they had political conversations around the dinner table, because we weren’t allowed to speak when we were eating.”

Studying sociology at sixth-form college was “absolutely life-changing – it put everything I was experiencing into context”. It was here she first encountered feminism, which she regarded then as irrelevant, feeling more in common with the lads from her old comprehensive than the “posh girls” now in her class who’d been at a fee-paying school.

After graduating from the University of Kent, she took a job in a hostel for homeless women, mainly elderly former psychiatric patients. Then, after two years, she began work at a domestic violence refuge and felt immediately she was in the right place. “Any woman I met could have been my mother. In fact, one summer Mum came on a trip we organised for the refuge kids and she started talking about how there hadn’t been anything like this when she’d needed it.”

Would her mother have left for a refuge? Ingala Smith shrugs. “I don’t know. They are not easy places to live in. We had a nice home and to give that up would be really hard, as it is for anyone.” She says people rarely understand refuges are places of absolute last resort. “They can be chaotic, noisy. Women who have other economic choices would go elsewhere. You’re moving into a house with maybe ten other families that you don’t know, with children of all different ages, with very different parenting ideas to your own. They can really help kids who’ve grown up with violent dads because they meet others in the same boat. But they’re challenging places.”

A move to a refuge is invariably fast. A woman in danger is referred by police or social services, then refuge staff have a brief phone call to try to determine whether she’s a danger to others – perhaps has a history of violence or arson – before arranging to meet her close by. (A refuge never gives out its address on the phone.) “You’d imagine women would turn up black and blue, but that is rare,” Ingala Smith says. “I think women wait until they’re ‘decent’. Besides, after an assault they often don’t have the strength to get themselves together. They wait until it’s quieter, when they know it’s coming again, and then leave.”

The refuge suggests a safety plan: to gather up passports and bank books; siphon possessions discreetly to a friend’s house; to remember that you’re most at risk of violence just after leaving. Ingala Smith notes there were few referrals in late December. “Women didn’t want to leave violent men and disrupt Christmas for children, and you knew anybody who came at that time of year – one year we had a woman turn up on Christmas Eve with three kids – was in a really bad way. In January, the phone rings off the hook.”

Ingala Smith has been the CEO of Nia since 2009. Beginning as Hackney Women’s Aid in 1975, it supports about 2,000 women a year, running a specialist refuge for women in prostitution and another for those dealing with substance abuse. Much has changed since she joined the refuge movement: many small feminist charities have merged as they must now compete for council contracts with generic housing trusts. These don’t provide the “woman-centred care” Ingala Smith believes is vital for those fleeing violent men.

Nia also works with women at high risk of domestic violence and runs East London Rape Crisis, serving both sexes. Here it counsels men and trans women, whom it often refers to Galop, a specialist LGBT+ anti-abuse charity. But no male people – whether men or trans women – are allowed into Nia refuges or group counselling.

In 2017, Nia’s trustees decided to invoke the exemptions in the Equality Act that permit single-sex services “as a proportionate means of achieving a legitimate aim”. It knew this was a risk. Such is the toxic debate on gender, female-only services often receive threats to their funding or have staff reported to trustees merely for liking a JK Rowling tweet. They receive hoax calls to test whether they are trans inclusive. The whole sector is chilled by how trans activists targeted Vancouver Rape Relief and Women’s Shelter: it was defunded, vandalised and had a dead rat pinned to its door for remaining single sex.

The question of whether a trans woman can safely be accommodated alongside women has riven the refuge movement. “They [trans women] are not a potential risk to women because they are trans,” she writes, “but because they are male.” She cites cases of trans prisoners like Karen White who were allowed into female jails and sexually abused inmates. “Prison officers, who are really good at risk-assessing violent men, get it wrong. So how can we screen [people] in five-minute phone calls?”

Besides, this is about more than safety. Many women in refuges endured sexual abuse, often as children. Being housed with any males generates a debilitating and involuntary post-traumatic response in the brain. “It’s not hate. It’s not bigotry. It’s not transphobia,” she says. “It is an impact of abuse by men… The presence of a male-bodied person among vulnerable women causes distress and consternation.” She is aghast that Mridul Wadhwa, the trans woman who heads Edinburgh Rape Crisis, told The Guilty Feminist podcast last year that female survivors who demand male-free spaces should work to “reframe their trauma”.

In group counselling, she says, male people have been socialised to dominate groups, to ask more questions and take up space, while women have learnt to serve and make way for them. “I remember talking to a woman about what her options were and she started crying. I asked why. She said, ‘Nobody’s ever given me a choice before.’ To recover, women have to centre themselves in their own lives.”

But what of women who say they have no problem receiving counselling alongside trans women? “I understand that some female rape survivors can say, ‘A women-only service is not important to me. I’d be happy for a trans sister to be in my group.’ If they want to say that, it’s fine, but they shouldn’t take away that choice from women for whom it isn’t fine.” Young women who campaign for trans-inclusive services, she says, are mainly middle-class graduates unlikely to need them. Nia’s younger staff support the policy, even though defending it has cost some of them friends.

At root, Ingala Smith believes, violence suffered by women and trans women has a different dynamic. In her book she disputes Stonewall’s assertion that trans women suffer the highest levels of domestic abuse and murder. “Well, show me the data. Because I hear that, but I’ve never seen figures to demonstrate it.” She has collated every murder victim who might come under the broad Stonewall definition of a trans woman (which includes occasional cross-dressers). Since 2009, there have been nine murders, the last being Amy Griffiths in 2019. Most were sex workers murdered by punters or who died in drug-related fights. Just one, Vanessa Santillan in 2015, was killed by an intimate partner.

By contrast, only about 8 per cent of women victims are killed by strangers, the rest by men they know. “Most women’s refuges work exclusively with women who are fleeing partners, former partners and, in some cases, family members,” she writes. “That doesn’t mean other people don’t need places of safety or support, just that their experiences and needs are different.” She wonders why Stonewall doesn’t devote its resources to setting up specialist services rather than campaigning against those created by and for women.

The Femicide Census has revealed trends Ingala Smith hadn’t anticipated. “I was shocked,” she says, “by the number of elderly women killed in burglaries. I assumed that if a man broke into an old woman’s house he might push her down the stairs, she could be frail and bang her head. But there’s a real brutality, a particular anger and misogyny involved. Often young men use sexual violence against elderly women.” She was also surprised how many women are killed by their own sons.

Twice as many men are murdered than women but overwhelmingly by other men. When women kill – 8 per cent of murderers are female – they are both more likely to use a weapon (which makes it an aggravated offence in sentencing) and to have been abused by their victim, while men, being stronger, frequently kill with their bare hands. Strangulation is men’s second most common murder method and lately Ingala Smith has seen many lawyers adopt the “sex game gone wrong” defence.

How has devoting her life to the terrible things men do to women affected her own life? “I had a string of disastrous relationships – I just shagged around, basically – and didn’t think men were up to much.” She’d find herself moved to tears when witnessing a happy family, since her own experience was so dysfunctional.

Then, after writing off men as “avenues for happiness”, she decided to apply herself properly rather than settling for “whoever I ended up snogging in a pub at the weekend”. She started internet dating, setting herself high standards. The result was her husband of 20 years, André, a subtitler of South African parentage who speaks four languages, to whom she dedicates her book. They have no children, after several painful failed courses of IVF.

Ingala Smith knows her book will put her further in the firing line – the Labour Party has already refused her application for membership – but single-sex services “are the hill I’m prepared to die on”. That list of dead women never gets any shorter, I say. Will there ever be fewer names? “That’s the subject of my PhD, which I’m just finishing,” she says, “and my next book.” Defending Women’s Spaces by Karen Ingala Smith is out now (£15.99, Polity)

[thefreakydeaky]

Good Girls Go To Heaven

Negan x Plus sized reader

Negan Smith x Plus sized reader

Summary: If there is one thing you have never been accused of it's being good. And while Negan finds this entertaining at first, the day comes when he reaches his limit.

*Not Beta read (but when is my shit ever beta read? if any body wants to the position is open 😉😛 message me/send an ask)

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Dub-Con, Strong Language

"What did you do?"

It was like a scene right out of a cartoon. At the sound of Negan's raised voice every wife and savior in the room froze.

You knocked back the shot of rum you were holding.

"What the fuck did you do?" Negan seethed.

"I do a lot of shit. You'll have to be more specific." You began pouring yourself another shot.

You heard his foot steps coming up behind you, they picked up speed as they got closer.

You were quick to lift both your glass and the bottle. A second later Lucille came swinging over the table. Tanya cried out in surprise. Glass and liquor went flying, splashing you and the other people sitting on the sectional.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said, be. more. specific."

The growl he emitted would have set a wise man to asking for mercy, but you had never been accused of being wise.

His hand seized the back of your neck. You bit back a gasp as he forced you out of your seat and onto the floor. The bottle you had been holding went rolling across the floor.

"This is not a fucking game." He thrust Lucille in front of your face. "I'm only gonna ask you one more time. What did you do?"

Having no idea which thing you had done to piss him off, your only option was silence. You didn't lift your gaze from his boots. Seconds ticked by and you remained stoic.

"Not so mouthy now, are ya? Get up!" His large hand grabbed hold of your arm.

He hauled you to your feet. Negan led you away from the drawing room, his hand at the back of your neck like you were a misbehaved puppy. You passed the bewildered faces of some of the other wives before he shoved you into the bedroom ahead of him. You would have thought they would be loving it, seeing your day of reckoning had finally come. You tripped and landed on your knees on the rug. You heard the door slam and thought back on your offenses.

There was the pair of earrings you had taken from Tanya's room. They were pretty and she didn't wear them often. Why shouldn't you enjoy them?

The four oxycontin pills you had pinched from Carson's cabinet. You still had two. You were saving them for a rainy day.

There of course was the game of cat and mouse you had been playing with Simon for a while now. You weren't on the short list of girls that was allowed to indulge on those free pass days, but you flirted anyway. From that flirting came the gift Simon had given you, a rechargeable vibrator. That contraband was wrapped in a bandana you had taken from Negan's sock drawer and hidden in the one place it would never be discovered, behind that very dresser in Negan's bedroom.

If it was none of these then someone told him about your recent altercation with Frankie. The bitch was talking shit. Slapping her was technically self defense.

"Hey!" He snapped his fingers in your face.

You blinked up at him.

"Where do you get off cheatin' on me?" He hissed. "Do I not provide for you? Do I not dick you down often enough?"

Your brow furrowed.

"Answer me!"

"I'm not."

He held his hand up to his ear as though he couldn't hear you.

"I didn't."

His hand closed tightly around the neck of his bat.

"I didn't cheat on you."

He lifted the bat higher off the ground and you flinched.

"I haven't cheated on you. I don't know why you think I did, but I'm telling you, I didn't."

"I heard him, your loverboy talking about how hot you sound when you cum."He said angrily.

You sifted through his words to try and make sense out of them. You hadn't slept with any man, but Negan since before you ended up in the sanctuary.

"If it was any of the other girls, I would know it was him at fault, but you? You're an evil fucking mastermind. Nobody can harass you into doing shit you don't wanna do."

You eyed Lucille, swallowing nervously.

"You're the only man here I've fucked. If anyone says otherwise they're lying."

Negan's dark brow raised.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"And knowing what the fucking punishment for an offense like this is, why would someone lie about that?"

He was right. What kind of crazy asshole would put themselves in danger of getting their face melted or worse, having their head bashed in? Unless...

"Did you ask him?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did he actually say he had sex with me?"

"He didn't have to." Negan scoffed. "How else would he know what you sound like when you cum?"

It hit you and you experienced about thirty seconds of relief before you realized your saving grace would also be your downfall.

You let out a sound of frustration.

"I masterbate sometimes." You mumbled.

You hated having to admit such a personal thing to him, but it had to be done.

Negan pursed his lips.

"You what?"

You took a deep breath and let it out. Your face heated with shame.

"I touch myself sometimes. Maybe he heard me."

Negan's jaw clenched.

"He didn't see me and he sure as hell didn't touch me." You added in desperation.

"Hmm..." He mulled it over. "So you're sayin' he didn't fuck you, you fucked yourself."

"Yes and that's the only way he could have heard me."

"And just how often do you fingerbang yourself?"

You stared at him.

His eyes narrowed as he peered down at you suspiciously.

"It would be one hell of a coincidence for him to hear you the one time in a blue moon that you-"

"I do it all the time."

"What?" His expression quickly went from surprised to offended.

"A couple of times a week." You admitted through gritted teeth.

Negan laughed darkly.

"Well hell, honey. Am I just not doin' it for you anymore?"

You looked away from his piercing gaze.

"Get on the bed."

You sighed.

"I'm not a fan of fucking repeating myself."

You got up off your knees and went to the bed. With all the enthusiasm of someone waiting in line at the dmv, you crawled onto the bed.

"Stop." Negan commanded. "Turn around."

You got onto your back, but kept your eyes on the ceiling.

His hands slid under your skirt and up your thick thighs. He found the waistband of your panties and tugged them, you lifted your bottom so he could take them off.

His big fingers fumbled with the straps of your heels as the satin fabric got caught around your ankles.

"Fuck." He gave up on it and lifted your dress. He spread your legs as best he could. Negan leaned over you and cupped your sex.

"Look at me." He ordered.

You looked him in the eye.

"This is mine. Nobody can fucking touch this pussy, but me."

Your eyes widened when he gave your pussy a light smack.

"Mine." He said and smacked it again. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Wrong answer."

He spanked your pussy. His hand came down over and over on your sensitive flesh.

Your breath hitched.

This time when he swatted you his hand came away wet. Negan looked at his glistening palm and then at your pussy.

His eyebrow raised.

"Damn, you're gettin off on this shit aren't ya?"

You turned your face away.

"You dirty girl." He chuckled. "You like it when Daddy gets rough, like it a whole damn lot, don't cha?" He slipped his index and middle fingers through your labia then brought them to his lips. He sucked his fingers clean.

"Mmm...Sweet.As.Pie."

You clenched and more of your cum seeped out of you.

Negan managed to untangle your panties. He spread your legs wider.

"Maybe I've been a little selfish lately." He mused. "Maybe you need something different than what I've been giving you? Hmm?"

You shook your head, unwilling to find out what fiendish ideas were on his mind.

"Why else would you need to touch yourself?"

His whisky and olive eyes were fixed on your nervous gaze.

"I want you to show me." His serious expression made you gasp.

"Wh-what? No, I-I can't."

"I wanna see what you've been doing that makes you cum so good people can hear you moaning in the next room."

You turned away.

Negan took hold of your wrist and set your hand down over your pussy.

"Show me." There was still anger in his voice and though you knew you would hate every second, you forced yourself to accept what you had to do.

You couldn't bare being watched this way. You closed your eyes. Hesitantly you ran your index and middle fingers through your folds. You repeated the same motion twice more. Then ran your finger tip lightly over your clitoris. You alternated between caressing your labia and stimulating the slowly engorging bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. You breath quickened as you touched yourself, but Negan was dissatisfied.

He stopped you mid-motion, touching the back of your hand. You opened your eyes and looked up at him questioningly.

"I'm not saying I don't enjoy watching you rub one out, but that's not what I asked you to do. I told you to show me exactly how you touch yourself when you are alone. I wanna see everything you do just the way you would do it if I wasn't here."

Wasn't it enough to humiliate you the way he already was? You thought about what you would normally do and though it wasn't the sort of step by step process it sounded like he wanted, you knew how to get yourself there.

Then a problem occured to you. You tried to keep the panic off your face as you remembered what exactly it was that reliabley made you cum. The vibrator.

You sat up, but he was standing close, keeping you from raising.

"I-I need to get something."

He backed away just two steps, but it was enough for you to stand and go to the dresser. You could feel him watching you carefully as you bent down and retrieved your contraband from behind the piece of furniture. Before you got back onto the bed you undressed completely. You unwrapped your small vibrator and held it in your palm. Then you lay back and closed your eyes again.

You pressed the button for the lowest setting, it buzzed to life in your hand. You pressed it lightly to your folds, You moved it slowly across your pussy, circling your clit with it before taking it lower again. It felt incredible. You released a moan at the sensation. With your other hand you caressed your body, running your fingertips over your hip, your belly and then your breasts.

"Open your eyes." His voice had taken on the husky quality it had when he was turned on.

You obeyed. Your eyes were on his as you touched the vibrator to your clitoris this time. You pinched the nipple of one breast between your fingers then the other. You were breathing harder as you massaged your breasts in your hand.

You noticed Negan palm his erection through his pants. His eyes roamed slowly over your body. You whimpered as you reached down and slid your index and middle finger into your warmth.

"Oh fuck." Negan murrmured.

Slowly you began sliding your fingers in and out of your wet hole. You moved slowly deliberately drawing out your pleasure until you could feel yourself tightening around your fingers, clenching around them.

The sounds coming out of you now were beyond your control. You circled your clitoris with the vibrator before pressing it directly to your tender flesh. Your vision blurred. You squeezed tight around your fingers as an intense wave of pleasure coursed through you. Closing your eyes, you held the buzzing toy to your tender flesh as you reveled in the moment of exhaltation.

When it began to fade the stimulation became too much. You removed the vibrator and turned it off. You lay there panting, enjoying the feeling of lightness even as it ebbed.

You heard the clink of Negan's belt as he unbuckled it, heard him pull down the zipper. When you felt him brush against your thighs, you looked up at him.

The hunger in his eyes ate up his irises, pupils wide with lust. The head of his thick hard cock pressed into your entrance. You spread your legs wide and let him sink into your sopping wet heat. A pleasured sound, purr like in nature came from you as his length stretched your walls.

"Fucking heaven." He groaned as he buried himself in you.

He started moving in and out of you at a leasurely pace. From the half dazed expression on his face you knew he was enjoying every second of it. You rocked your hips toward him, meeting his every thrust as he began to speed up the pace.

A breathy groan fell from your lips as his curved shaft began to hit that particular spot inside of you that started a wave of heat radiating through your body.

He fucked deeper into your dripping pussy. You cupped your breasts with your hands and began massaging the soft skin, your nipples stiff against your palms. Negan's large palm stroked your skin, his finger tips skimmed over your round belly.

You could hear the suction noise of your pussy clenching around his cock. It made you whimper. He pulled one of your hands away from your breast. He leaned down covering your nipple with his mouth, lapping at the tight bud, sucking on it. The pressure building within you seemed to reach an impossible amount.

You whined with need. Negan pumped into you grinding his pelvis into yours, again, and again, and again. One more stroke of his shaft against your g spot set stars to bursting in front of your eyes. A sensation a kin to electricity shocked your senses, filling you with the sweet euphoria you craved. Negan continued to fuck you until he shuddered, reaching his peak and spilled into you.

Your breathing was harsh as you lay there with him bent half over you. You were startled to feel him brushing his lips against your breast. The gentle kisses he placed along your chest, bewildered you. Your eyes were trained on his face. With a satisfied sigh, Negan pulled out of you and stood. He straightened his clothing and you kept looking at him, staring, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I won't ask where you got this." He picked up the toy from beside your thigh. "because I get the feeling, I won't like the answer. I don't want to ruin the good mood I'm in." He observed the object in his hand for a moment and then he placed it on his night stand.

You rose and picked up your panties and bra with the intent to redress.

"Give them to me." He held his hand out.

You hung your panties and bra on his fingers and went to pick up your dress instead.

"And the dress."

You gazed warily at him, uncertain of his intentions.

"Hand it over." He said again.

Hesitantly, you held the dress out toward him. He took it, draping it over his arm.

"You don't need these anymore.This is how you're going to stay."

Your eyes widened.

"For how long?" You asked forlorn.

"Until I say otherwise." He grinned, a wide entirely too pleased with himself grin. "You are gonna wait here for me all day, every day. And I expect you to be ready for me whenever I feel like fucking you."

Your eyebrows raised, your mouth falling open as you understood your punishment.It seemed your sins had finally caught up with you after all. You were no longer his wife, you were his whore.

#negan x reader #negan x plus sized reader #negan #negan smith x reader #negan smith x plus sized reader #plus sized reader #negan smith #negan x plus size reader

[pretendingboyfriends]

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A/N: holy SHIT u guys the way i absolutely LOVE how this turned out,,,,, i REALLY hope u guys love it as much as i do and pls pls pls don’t be afraid to tell me ur favorite parts or give me suggestions for the next part!! and thank u miss tanya @sunflowers-styles​ for beta reading this part!!! ily mwah<3

Warnings: some explicit language & slight sexual innuendos

Word count: 5.9k+

fic masterlist

You gaze out into the crystal blue ocean as you drive along the beachfront, car window ajar allowing the salty, warm breeze to kiss your skin gently. The sun glimmers brightly in the sky, not a single cloud in sight and you feel as though nothing could possibly go wrong. 

Deidre invited you on this beach trip as a last minute getaway. She knew you’d been having a bit of a hard time with your mental health recently, so she decided to rent a beach house for the two of you to try and help you get out of your “funk” as she called it. Two weeks of relaxation with nothing to worry about. Just lounging around in the warm sun with your best friend for 14 days. You simply couldn’t say no. 

Seeing as Deidre has been your best friend for the majority of your lifetime, trips like these aren’t uncommon in the slightest. In fact, you’ve been on so many vacations with her and her family that you can’t even fathom going somewhere like this without her. 

“Do you wanna stop and grab something to eat before we get to the house?” The sound of her voice draws you from your almost dazed state and you turn to look at her as she drives. Immediately at the mention of food, your stomach gurgles violently, loud enough for both of you to hear which causes you both to burst into a fit of laughter.

 “I guess that answers your question better than anything.” You choke through laughter. 

“Well then,” She giggles, “McDonald’s, here we come!” 

The two of you purchase almost the entire McDonald’s menu and eat approximately 3/4ths of it in the car before you’re finally headed to the beach house with bloated tummies and quenched appetites. 

Eventually, you’re pulling into the driveway of a small, teal beach house facing the ocean. The house is lifted on stilts due to its position near the ocean and the paint is slightly worn, chipping away on the wooden slats most likely due to past tropical storms. There are two sets of steps, both leading to a wrap around porch, one coming from the back of the house (where the pool is) and one leading directly to the front door. It’s quaint and homey and you love it. 

When you’d initially pulled in, you hadn’t noticed the other car parked in the driveway, but now that you’re stepping out of Deidre’s car, your gaze falls directly onto the bright yellow Ferrari parked only a few feet away from you. There is only one person you know that owns that exact car. 

“Oh! I forgot to mention, Harry is staying here too.” 

You whip your head in Deidre’s direction, your jaw nearly dropping from its hinges. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier??”

She shrugs casually as she swings the drivers door shut and walks around to the back. “I guess I forgot.” She presses a button on her keys and the back door slowly opens in front of her. “Plus, I didn’t think you’d mind, the two of you have always gotten along.”

“Deidre, that’s not why I’m upset-”

“Great, then what’s the problem?” She interrupts, eyebrows raised in question as she stares at you. You definitely aren’t one for violence, but the image of smacking her directly across the face flashes across your mind for a moment and you seriously consider doing it. “He’s just here to relax like us. And he’s paying for the place, so I couldn’t really say no.”

You let out an exasperated groan in response, slamming the passenger door shut and stomping around to the back of the car so that you can retrieve your own bags. 

The truth is, you and Harry had gotten along in the past, which would give you no reason to be panicking right now, but something you hadn’t told Deidre was that for the entirety of your childhood, you were madly in love with him. Yes, he’s older than you by a few years, but that never stopped you from pining over him from the ripe age of six. You had watched the way he treated his two sisters and mother for so long and fell in love with his kindness and care for others. You used to daydream about the day he would realize his love for you, but of course Harry got famous and that day never came. 

It’s been years since you’ve seen him in person. The last time you were in direct contact was nearly 4 years ago, a couple years after he went on The X Factor and was immediately consumed by fame. He was 18 at the time, visiting home during a little break, and you were having a sleepover with Deidre, but the length of your collision wasn’t very long. A few harmless words were exchanged during dinner and then you and Deidre had excused yourselves to continue your evening and that was it. Then, he was undeniably the most attractive boy you had ever seen and now, if it was even possible, he’d blossomed into a beautiful man, even more attractive than he was before.

As you begin to haul your bags out of the trunk, Harry appears at the top of the steps, screen door leading into the house flapping loudly behind him. 

“Need some help with bags?” He calls, swiftly galloping down the wooden steps.

Deidre sighs in relief, “That’d be great, thanks Harry!” 

His long, curly hair is pulled into a tight bun at the top of his head, a few stray curls framing his beautiful face. He smiles at you, dimples sinking deeply into his cheeks as he strides towards you, “Long time, no see,” 

You feel the heat rising in your cheeks and you smile sheepishly, “Hi, Harry, how are you?”

“I’m pretty good! And yourself?” He asks, effortlessly tugging your large bag from the trunk of the car and slinging it over his shoulder. 

You swallow thickly, struggling to keep your eyes off of his straining muscles through his thin t-shirt. “I’m uh- I’m good as well.” 

“Glad to hear it, babe.” He winks and you watch as he takes a few smaller bags from the trunk, heading back up the stairs and through the front door, breathing out a shaky sigh before grabbing your remaining bag. 

Deidre is already halfway up the stairs behind him when she calls back to you, “Can you close the trunk before coming up?” 

You shoot her a quick thumbs up and drop the bags onto the cement driveway, lifting your arms above your head and slamming the large door shut before picking up the bags again and heading towards the stairs. You’re still quite stunned at what just happened and, frankly, you’re a little bit vexed with Deidre’s nonchalant way of sharing that Harry was going to be joining you on what was supposed to be a relaxing trip. Nevertheless, you’re forced to set your feelings aside and keep your mouth shut for fear of Deidre prying the truth out of you. 

As you step into the house, screen door slamming behind you, you take a gander around the living area. It’s small and you can tell it hasn't been redecorated since at least 1985. Every piece of decor has some sort of relation to a beach (quite fitting considering where you are). Even the wallpaper is covered with small seashells and fish and it makes you chuckle. There’s an opening connected to the living area that leads directly to the kitchen, a second doorway that you assume leads to the bedrooms, and a large sliding glass door that leads to the back porch. 

Deidre saunters out of the second doorway, “C’mon, let me show you our room!” 

You frown, “Our room?”

“Yeah, there are only two bedrooms.” 

“Oh,” You take a moment to breathe in, feeling your frustration building with every passing moment as you follow her into the small hallway. You pass the first door on your right, glancing inside to find the bathroom before moving on. The next door you pass is a bedroom decorated identically to the living room, a queen sized bed crammed into the corner with a quilt covered in clownfish and seaweed and the last door is another bedroom. This bedroom is painted a bright coral pink and the theme seems to be seashells due to the seashell print on the bed’s quilt and the framed seashells above the bed. This room, although similar to the first one, is a little bit larger and the bed rests directly in the middle of the room instead of it being crammed into the corner like the first one. 

You step into the room after Deidre and toss your bags onto the floor next to the wall before throwing yourself onto the bed as you kick your shoes off. “I’m so ready to relax,” 

She hums as she unzips her large bag and begins shoveling her clothes into the top drawer of the dresser across from the bed. “Me too,” 

“I think I might go for a swim,” You turn over onto your back, lifting yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed as you look at her. “Wanna join me?” 

“As soon as i finish unpacking, I will.”

You shoot her a quick thumbs up and shove yourself off of the bed and towards your bags. Harry had set your large bag of clothes right beside the door, so you fall to your knees and pull it towards you to search for your bathing suit. 

“Go ask if Harry wants to come, too.” She adds, tossing her own bathing suit onto the bed. 

You hate her. You want to strangle her. It’s like she knows. But of course, she doesn’t. You’d never told anyone about your little crush and you planned to keep it that way. Tucking the valuable information into the very back of your mind for the rest of eternity. 

Without a word, you push yourself onto your feet and pad through the doorway, the thick carpet squishing softly beneath your bare feet. You’re hesitant to call for him at first, quietly wandering through the hallway, peering into the open doorways. Both rooms are empty, but there’s evidence of him sprawled across the bedroom. A large suitcase thrown haphazardly on the bed with clothes and shoes strewn all around it. 

 “Harry?” You continue walking, stepping out into the living room to find him lounging on the couch with the TV on in nothing but a pair of tight, black jeans, tattoos on full display. “Oh, there you are,” He looks up at you, a hint of mischief behind his virescent eyes. “Dee was wondering if you wanted to go for a swim with us.” it’s a statement, of course, but the wavering of your voice makes it sound like a question. 

“I would,” He starts, sitting up a little and reaching for the TV remote to turn down the volume. “But it looks like it’s about to rain.”

You frown, turning to the sliding glass window to find that in the short amount of time it took for you to take your bags from the car and into the house, the sky had filled with dark, fluffy clouds. 

“Shit.” 

Thunder rumbles in the distance, droplets of rain mizzling against the windows and roof quietly as the three of you keep yourselves dry inside the beach house.

“Alright, we have Monopoly, Life, Scrabble, Cards Against Humanity, a deck of regular playing cards, Jenga, and a few puzzles.” Deidre lists as she shovels through the large chest beside the couch, labeled ‘Games’. “Which one sounds the most fun right now?” 

You curl your feet underneath you on the couch and shrug, “A puzzle sounds nice.”

She nods, turning to Harry who’s making himself a sandwich in the kitchen. “Harry?” 

“I agree with her on the puzzle.”

“Puzzle it is, then.” She concludes, grabbing the first puzzle her eyes land on and setting it on the wooden coffee table. Another fit of thunder causes the house to shiver and you sigh, silently cursing the rain for trapping you inside on the first day of vacation. 

After Harry comes back into the living room and settles onto the couch beside you, Deidre sits on the other side of the coffee table and dumps the puzzle pieces out onto it. A show you’ve never heard of plays on the TV behind her and you glance up from the puzzle every now and then to watch it as the three of you sit in silence. 

The entire evening Harry sits beside you, his arm gently nudging yours every time he reaches forward to move a puzzle piece. At first, you brush it off as an accident, barely acknowledging his presence, but when he takes it a step further and knocks a puzzle piece out of your hand, you glance in his direction to find him smiling smugly to himself. You shake your head, holding back a small smile as you return to the puzzle, finding a different piece and placing it where it belongs. Two can play at that game. 

As Harry reaches for another piece, you quickly reach over his arm and snatch the piece he was aiming for, mumbling: “Ah, here it is! I was looking for this one.” 

You can feel his gaze burning a hole into the side of your face as you hold back a laugh, a grin tugging at your lips.

“Was that necessary?” He hums thickly, keeping his gaze in your direction. 

You shrug, placing the piece into its home. “I mean, that’s the point of building a puzzle, right? Finding each piece and where it goes...” 

He smirks and shakes his head at you but doesn’t respond.

A few hours pass as the three of you work and soon, it’s dark outside and the rain has calmed to a light drizzle. Deidre yawns and stretches her arms above her head before glance at the time on her phone. 

“I think I’m gonna head to bed, it’s pretty late and long drives always make me tired.” She says through another yawn and you nod.

“Me too,” 

“Alright then, wimps,” Harry replies, “I guess I’ll just have to party by myself.”

Deidre looks at you and rolls her eyes dramatically as Harry chuckles to himself. You push yourself up from the couch, stretching your arms out above your head just like Deidre had done moments ago.

“Goodnight, Harry.” She hums, stepping around the coffee table to smack a quick kiss to his forehead before sauntering off to the bedroom. You glance behind you as you follow her, giving Harry a small wave. 

“G’night,” He mumbles softly in response and you can feel his gaze on you as you step into the hallway. Part of you thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s checking you out.

Warm droplets of water cascade down your bare skin as you step out of the shower, wrapping a soft towel around your body. You hum quietly to yourself, patting the towel against your skin to dry off as much as possible.

Just as you’ve finished drying yourself off, you realize you completely forgot to bring a clean change of clothes into the bathroom, so you’re just left with the dirty clothes you’d spent the entire day in. Cringing at the thought of putting the clothes back on, you decide to take your chances and slip out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around your form. 

You gather the pile of clothes into your arms after taking a moment to moisturize and brush your teeth, stepping out into the dark hallway. Suddenly, just as you’re taking another step, Harry appears at the end of the hallway, crunching loudly with a bowl of cereal in hand. He’s clothed in a thin, grey t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, fluffy socks pulled onto his feet. 

“Shit,” You gasp, eyes widening as you press the bundle of clothes to your chest harshly. 

“Oh, hey,” Harry says mid chew.

You pause, “I didn’t think you’d be awake...”

He smiles sheepishly, “Yeah, uh, I got a little hungry.”

“I can see that,” 

“I can make you a bowl if you’d like,” He offers, jutting a thumb behind his shoulder towards the kitchen.

“Harry-” You scoff, “I am quite literally standing naked in front of you right now.” 

He shrugs, chuckling to himself as his eyes flit to the ground and then back up to you. “Was just trying to be polite.” 

“Um- well, thanks, but I think I’m alright for now.” 

“Alright,” He sighs, taking another bite from his spoon, “Goodnight, then.”

“‘Night.” You murmur, watching him strut past you towards his room. You wait until the door is closed before you scurry into your own room, finding Deidre fast asleep on her side of the bed. 

Morning comes sooner than anticipated and soon, you’re dragging yourself out of bed as Deidre snores. You’re not expecting her to get out of bed anytime soon. 

You trudge out into the kitchen with a yawn, finding Harry leaning against the countertop with his nose buried in a book. He’s in the same clothes from the night before, but instead of his hair being pulled back into a bun

“Good morning,” You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself as you step onto the cold tile. 

He glances up from his book and smiles back, tucking a bookmark between the pages before setting it down on the countertop. “Mornin’. Coffee’s almost ready if you want some. I made enough for all of us.”

“Oh, great, thank you!” 

“I went out to the shops earlier as well and got some of that coffee creamer you and Dee like,” He starts, pushing his large hand through his long, curly hair. “I know it’s been a bit since we last saw each other, but I know that she still likes it, so I assumed you do, too.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you take a clean mug from the dish rack lying beside the sink, “I actually do still like it, thank you.”

He shakes his head, “S’no problem, really.”

The coffee maker beeps twice to indicate that the coffee is finished brewing and Harry turns, reaching out for your mug. “May I?”

“Oh- yes, please,” You smile, allowing him to take the ceramic mug from your hand and pour the scalding liquid into the mug before gently placing it back into your hand. “Thanks.” 

You walk to the fridge, swinging the door open to scavenge for the creamer he’d mentioned earlier. The carton catches your eye and you snatch it from the shelf, kicking the fridge door shut before setting the mug on the counter. 

“Did I get the right kind?” Harry asks as you unscrew the cap. 

“Yep!” You smile, pouring the cream into the dark coffee, causing the two to swirl together into a thick, hazel colored liquid. You find a small spoon in one of the many drawers lining the countertop and you drop it into the liquid, stirring it momentarily before tapping off the excess liquid and placing the spoon into the sink. Glancing back up at him, you take a careful sip from your mug to test the temperature. 

“Good?” He asks, sipping from his own mug slowly. 

“Great.” You confirm, taking a larger sip as you lean your hip against the counter. 

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few long moments, sipping your coffee leisurely before Harry speaks. 

“Do you-” He clears his throat, “Do you want to go sit out on the back deck with our coffee? The weather’s great and the view is phenomenal.” 

He seems slightly more nervous than he had been the day before, most likely due to your brief run in that evening, but you don’t mind. “Yeah, that sounds nice!”

He nods towards the doorway with a smile, waiting for you to take the first step before following behind you through the sliding glass door. There are a few chairs settled around a small, round table, overlooking a breathtaking view of the beach where a few people are getting their morning jog in or just strolling leisurely along the shore. You slide yourself into the furthest chair, careful not to spill the hot coffee in your hand as you do so, watching Harry as he does the same. 

You wonder why, if he was paying for the entire trip, he would choose such a cheap beach house in such a rural part of this particular beach. Seeing as he was a multi millionaire, you’d assume he would choose the most expensive place to stay in the most popular area, but that obviously isn’t the case. Not that you aren’t grateful for staying there for free, because you are, you’re just curious. 

“So,” You begin, sipping your coffee for a moment before continuing. “How’s celebrity life treating you?” 

He chuckles, pushing a hand through his luscious mane, “S’not bad. Been treatin’ me pretty well, I can’t complain.”

You nod, “That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” Pausing for a moment, you curl your feet beneath you on the chair before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?” 

He glances up from his coffee, raising his eyebrows with a nod, “Sure.” 

You take a breath, aware of the intrusiveness of your question but speaking anyways. “Dee told me you’re paying for all this,” You motion to the house with your hands, “And I’m just wondering why you chose to come here and rent this house when you have the money for something much nicer in a much nicer area.”

He thinks about it for a moment, brows furrowed in thought before he lets out a breathy laugh. “Honestly, there are a few reasons,” He clears his throat and crosses one leg over the other. “The first one is that I’m able to avoid paparazzi, for the most part, because they don’t suspect that I’d ever stay in a place like this,” He explains, using his hands to animate. “And the second one is that I like to make things as normal as possible, especially when I’m spending time with Dee. I know she would absolutely love staying in some bougie mansion with its own private beach, but I just don’t want things to be different from when we were kids, you know? I’d rather her not have the image of me being a rich asshole in her head all the time. I just want her to see me as she always has; her big brother.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest at his sentiment, the reminder of just how much he cares about his family causing certain feelings to come rushing back to you. “I- sorry, I know that was a weird question to ask... but yeah that makes sense. I didn’t really think of it that way.”

Just as you finish speaking, Deidre comes bursting wildly through the sliding glass door in her bathing suit and a large towel draped over her arm. 

“IT’S BEACH TIME, FUCKERS!!” She screams, leaping down the stairs and bolting across the dock leading to the beach. Her bare feet kick up clouds of sand as she runs across the beach, dropping her towel carelessly as she gallops into the water. 

You and Harry look at each other with wide eyes, both of you bursting into a fit of laughter at the same time. You open your mouth to speak, but Deidre beats you to it. 

“COME ON GUYS!! IT FEELS GREAT!”

You look back at Harry again, snickering. “I think we should get out there.”

He hums, “I agree.” 

You both lift yourselves out of the porch chairs, heading into the house to change into your own bathing suits. Harry, of course, offers to take your mug and clean it. 

Around ten minutes pass before you’re finally in your bathing suit stepping out onto the sand with Harry following close behind. Deidre is laying out on the sand with an arm draped over her eyes as she waits for the two of you to arrive. Since it’s still morning, there’s a bit of a nippy breeze to the air, causing goosebumps to litter your skin and shiver to travel down your spine. 

“Finally,” She breathes, pushing herself up from the towel. Harry comes up behind you and drops both of your towels onto the sand beside her along with his book from this morning. 

“S’quite nice out, innit?” He hums, resting his hands against his hips. His hair is pulled back into a bun and he’s wearing the shortest bright yellow swim trunks you’ve ever seen and you can’t help but to giggle a little. 

Deidre rolls her eyes, reaching forward and grasping your arm before dragging you with her towards the water. It’s around 10:00 am and there are a few more people on the beach than there were when you and Harry had first sat on the deck, so when you enter the water, you and Deidre aren’t the only ones there.

Though there are people on the beach, none of them seem to notice that Harry’s there. They’re all caught up in their own vacations, oblivious to the fact that a multi-millionaire celebrity is galloping into the ocean towards you like a child.

You and Deidre screech as he comes toppling into the water head first, cool water splashing around him and onto both of you. The small waves crash into your legs whilst you clamor through the water, Harry surfacing dramatically, completely soaked and absolutely gorgeous. 

“It’s fucking freezing,” You mutter under your breath, wrapping your bare arms around yourself as you trudge deeper into the water. 

“If you get wet, it won’t be as cold.” Harry retorts, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. 

You shake your head at him, “You’re insane,” 

Just as you speak those words, Deidre dunks herself completely under water, splashing you once again as she comes back to the surface. 

 Harry chuckles, “C’mon, you’re gonna get wet eventually.”

You ignore the subtle innuendo. “I have no intention of getting in further than here so if you really want me to go under, it’s gonna have to be done by force.”

He cocks an eyebrow from beneath his sunglasses. “Is that a challenge?”

“Don’t even think about it,” You breathe, glaring at him. 

“You really shouldn’t have said that,” Deidre snickers as Harry begins to creep towards you slowly. His eyes are hidden beneath his sunglasses but you can tell his pupils are narrowed in directly on you. 

You step back with every step he takes forward, small waves crashing into the backs of your thighs at the movement of the water. He lifts his arms slightly as he stalks toward you and you squeal, nearly stumbling backwards and toppling back into the cold water. 

“Harry, I swear to god-” You start but you’re quickly interrupted by your own shriek as he tackles you into the water. It feels as though you’ve inhaled gallons of water from the impact once you resurface, sputtering and gasping dramatically. He doubles over with laughter and Deidre cackles a few feet away. You feel like a sad, wet dog standing in the ocean as they laugh at you and you cross your arms over your chest with a huff. “I hate both of you so much.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Oh, come onnnn, it’s not that bad.”

“My nipples could do some serious damage right now,” You growl between chattering teeth and both of them giggle. 

“Well, you’re wet now so there’s no point in not swimming with us.” Deidre shrugs, dipping back under as a wave rolls by.

You stand in silent rage for a few moments, glaring at Harry as he tries in vain not to let his eyes flicker down to your breasts. You don’t notice his eyeline wavering, though, too distracted by the brumal temperature of your body. A particularly nippy breeze attacks your damp skin and you whimper slapping your arms around your chest. 

“I’m going back to the shore. It’s way too cold for this.” You huff, the water sloshing loudly as you begin to traipse back to the shore. 

Harry watches you stumble back onto the soppy sand with a slight smirk on his pink lips and you can hear the low chuckle escape from his chest breathily. You counter his haughty chortle with a middle finger thrown up behind you, eyes trained in front of you to shield your view of him. 

Once you reach the towels you’d set out earlier, you unfold your towel and wrap it around your shoulders before plopping your ass into the sand. The chattering of your teeth subsides after a few moments and you glance to your side to find the book Harry had been reading. Curiosity fills you and you reach over, lifting it from its spot on Harry’s towel and bringing it in front of you to examine it. 

It’s a paperback, the cover an off-white cardstock with a simple design of a bleeding heart, impaled by an arrow on the front. The title reads “The Course of Love, a novel by Alain De Botton” and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You never would have assumed that he would be such a romantic.

You turn to the first chapter titled “Infatuations”, scanning it briefly and landing on the small, italicized paragraph in the middle that reads, “A marriage doesn’t begin with a proposal, or even an initial meeting. It begins far earlier, when the idea of love is born, and more specifically the dream of a soul mate.” 

“Insightful.” You mutter to yourself, eyebrows raised in understanding before fanning the pages to scour the book further. 

As you scan the blur of pages, you find that there are words scrawled all over the margins of the paper, words frantically underlined like they’d been scribbled whilst he was in a hurry. Your thumb lands approximately a fourth of the way into the book, a small photograph slipping from the spine and into your lap as you open it. It’s a photo of him, Deidre, Gemma (their older sister) and Anne (their mother) all cuddled up together on Anne’s couch with warm smiles on their faces. Their smiles are almost identical to each other as well as their features and, in a way, it comforts you. 

You glance back up from the photo to the page of the book, your eyes immediately landing on an underlined sentence from the italicized section. It reads, “When two people belong together, there is simply--at long last--a wondrous reciprocal feeling that both parties see the world in precisely the same way.” You suck in a breath at the words for a moment but a sudden droplet of water landing on the page pulls you from your stupor.

“I see you’ve found my book,” Harry’s voice belows above you and you snap your head in his direction as he shakes his dripping wet hair. 

You nestling the photo back into the spine of the book before shutting it and smiling up at him sheepishly. “Sorry, I- it was just sitting there and I got curious.”

“S’alright, I don’t mind,” He shrugs, reaching for his towel and wrapping it around himself. “What’d you think?”

“Oh- I only read a couple sentences,” You mutter, tightening the towel around yourself. “But from what I did read, it seemed quite insightful.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He quirks an amused eyebrow at you.

“Yeah,” You chuckle, “Very elegant and sophisticated.” 

“Mmm.” He hums, nodding his head in agreement. 

Your bottom lip slips between your teeth to hold back a grin as you glance away from him towards the water. Your eyes land on a group of people standing around Deidre in the shallow water directly across from you. You frown, “What’s Dee gotten herself into?” 

He takes a swig from the metal bottle of water he’d brought with him before speaking, “Made herself some new friends, I guess.” 

You study them for a moment, watching her laugh heartily at one of the guys’ jokes and pursing your lips together. Wherever the two of you went, she was always capable of making friends. Her natural charm could sweep anyone off their feet and it endlessly left you feeling like an extra wheel. You know she doesn’t mean to leave you out of things, she never has any sort of malicious intent, but you’re both so different from each other that it constantly feels like you’re left in the dust.

You glance away from the group, looking back in Harry’s direction to distract yourself from the intrusive thoughts filling your mind.

 “So, um, what’re your opinions on it?” You start again, clearing your throat quietly. “The book, I mean.”

He smiles as he skillfully tosses his sopping hair into a messy bun, “I like it. S’actually the second time I’ve read it.”

Your eyebrows quirk at that, “Really?”

He nods, tilting his body closer to you and bending one of his legs up against his chest. “Yeah.”

You laugh, “What do you expect from that?” 

“What, like, do I expect it to change?” You nod silently in response and he shrugs. “I mean- no, it’s just… comforting, in a way.” 

“Comforting,” You repeat to yourself. “I guess that makes sense.”

“It also kind of helps me retain the information better, you know?” He continues, mindlessly digging his fingers into the damp sand. 

“Yeah, I understand,” You reply softly, “Do you do that with all the books you read?”

He nods, “More or less.”

There’s an abrupt screech, followed by a few animated giggles and both of you look up at the sound. Deidre is running towards the two of you happily, a wide smile spread across her face as she skids to a stop in front of you. 

“I’m gonna go get lunch with these guys,” She chokes, out of breath from the short jog over. “Do either of you wanna come?”

You glance behind her at the group as they watch her for a moment and then you turn your head back to her. “You go ahead, I think I’ll just stay back here.”

Her expression falls a little and she sighs, turning to Harry with a hopeful look. He looks at you for a moment and then peers back up at her. 

“Think m’gonna do the same. Have fun, though.” He smiles and you nod along with him. 

She sighs again, reaching down and yanking her towel from the sand. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go change and then I’ll be heading out with them for a couple hours.”

You watch as she calls back to them that she’ll “be right back” before galloping back up to the house with her towel dragging behind her. 

“You could’ve gone with them if you wanted to, you know,” You say quietly. “I’m alright by myself.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, s’not really my scene anyways.”

You stay silent after that, watching the repetitive roll of the waves in a mindless state. Deidre returns in a matter of minutes, a loose dress tossed over her bathing suit, her long, dark hair tied into a high ponytail fluttering behind her as she prances. 

“See ya!” She calls after you. 

“Be careful!” You call in response and then she’s gone, engulfed into the group just like she had been before.

AHHHHHF;LSFSDLFJAS;DLKFJSDFK PLS PLS PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT U THINKKKK <33333

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[mrpenguinpants]

I read Record of Ragnarok!

Adam is probably my favorit character, beside Jack and Herakles! Speaking of Jack, he made me addicted to the nursery rhyme London Bridge is falling down qwq

~Minx

MINXXXX!!!! YOU'RE THE FUCKING MVP!!! ALRIGHT, I'M JUST GONNA GUSH REAL QUICK OKAY?? NO ONE I KNOW HAS READ IT SO I'M IN FULL FERAL GRIP. Brunhilde and I are one and the same right now.

Please...read this manga...it's really good. I'm going to be dead this week because sorry, I'm busy consuming content.

Okay. Okay. I remember seeing the Adam vs Zeus fight on youtube (the manga, way before the anime came out) and I saved it to my watch later because it looked cool. But then I never got around to watching it and I'm so fucking upset I didn't because wow, did I miss out on something great. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a masterpiece but I have never felt actual hype and excitement go through my system from reading a manga before. Because at the end of the day, it's still pictures right? What's there to be excited for? Nah, this manga came in and bitch slapped me across the face for thinking that because I can literally feel myself getting pumped for each fight. I'm actually a fan of the tournament arc style even though I know people think of it as filler. I'm pretty simple so while deep emotional storylines are cool and all, I just want to see people fight okay?? And I think this is THE BEST example of how to write a fight.

I will say tho. Almost every fight I wanted the other person to win even though, in my heart, I knew it would be the opposite. In the first fight with Lu bu and Thor, I didn't really care too much about who won since it was my first time reading. Plus, I kinda knew the Gods had to take the first round since you know. Plot and stuff. BUT WOW I WANTED ADAM TO WIN SO FUCKING BADLY. WHAT A GOOD DAD- I WOULD DIE FOR HIM. But I knew in my god damn heart that he wasn't going to because he was versing Zeus. He went out swinging and I salute him. I know the manga isn't complete yet but I have a feeling that the Gods might win but realize that while humanity has its fault, it did create some amazing people and humanity survives another 1000 years. Just to have another Ragnarok by the end of it. Or at least, that's what I'm hoping for lol. Maybe humanity get's wiped the fuck out or we actually win. I'm super excited either way.

Also speaking of brunhilde. I LOVE HER. She reminds me of Tanya but I love hearing her cuss out and god, her attitude and personality. I love her okay? I love all the crazy expressions that are drawn and holy shit the art style???? I love how the author draws eyes (adam...so pretty). I'm gonna find out where I can buy volumes to support the author and I almost never do that. That's how much I love this series.

But yeah getting back on track. I was confused as to why people were raving about Poseidon because I heard he was a fucking piece of shit (and he is) but I've been infected with the curse because he is so pretty. Be still my beating heart and I lowkey wanted him to win even tho Kojiro is such a g and I was cheering for him in my heart. I think I'm seeing a trend of really liking blond, emotionless, I'm good at everything men. Cough Albedo cough.

I've heard such good things about Jack vs Hercules but I haven't gotten to there yet but I have some idea of what might happen. Plus I found it weird that Hercules was going to be fighting since wasn't he like...sorta human but did his 12 labours to ascend? I don't know, I'm just ready for an emotional time and for Hercules to be the biggest sweetheart ever.

#littleminxthings #minx #record of ragnarok #ror #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv #super duper big mwah #lovely anon #anon ask

[carriagelamp]

The tops books I read over the 2020 – you know, what I could fit in between the entire world collectively losing its mind and a literal plague being unleashed on us.

This is ridiculously late, but my new year was just too busy to get this done and fight with tumblr over uploading x.x so here it finally is. I won’t go into detail about them, because I did that in my various monthly reviews, but (with the exception of Crave which was unspeakably bad but made the list because it was strangely iconic for my summer this year) this assortment of novels, novellas, comics, and manga were all fantastic reads that I would recommend people check out!

The list in a not-picture form:

A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood by Fred Rogers – a collection of illustrated poems from Mister Rogers

Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller – most recent queer novel by one of my favourite authors, about magic and science and war and medicine

Behind The Scenes by Bisco Hatori – a manga series by the creator of Ouran Highschool Host Club, a great coming-of-age story about a students in the theatre prop department

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor – a scifi novella about the first of the Himba people to leave for space after being accepted into the most prestige university in the galaxy

The Bromelaid Trilogy by Terry Pratchett – a series about a dying race of nomes who discover there’s more of them than they thought and more to the world than they imagined

Crave by Tracy Wolff – worst paranormal romance book I’ve ever read, derivative of, somehow, everything, do not fucking bother

The Deep by Rivers Solomon – a novella about a race of deep sea mermaids and how they cope with the traumatic history of their people

Doll Bones by Holly Black – a story about a group of kids as they struggle with growing beyond playing make believe and a ghost that may or may not be haunting them

Flawed Dogs by Berkeley Breathed – a story about dogs and how they survive in against the human standards of perfection and beauty, both hilarious and traumatically brutal

FRNCK by Olivier Bocquet & Brice Cossu – a French graphic novel series about a boy who accidentally falls back into prehistory and is adopted, somewhat reluctantly or at least with great confusion, by a family of cavemen

Ghost Hunters Adventure Club and the Secret of the Grand Chateau by Dr Cecil H. H. Mills – a Hardy Boys satire written by the Game Grumps which was probably the funniest book I read all year, I would highly recommend it even as someone with zero interest in the Game Grumps.

Gregor the Overland by Suzanne Collins – Gregor discovers a hidden world under New York populated by giant animals and strange humans that are determined to draw him into their political turmoil

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson – I feel like I read this ten years ago. The novel that the Netflix series was loosely based on, a very cool horror with fascinating themes built into the subtext

Kings, Queens, and In-Betweens by Tanya Boteju – a Canadian slice-of-life novel about a young queer teen falling into the LGBT scene for the first time and figuring out friendship, love, and who she is

The Last Book On The Left by Marcus Parks, Henry Zebrowski, and Ben Kissel. True crime stories with a comedic twist, adapted from their podcast The Last Podcast On The Left.

Lupin III: World’s Most Wanted #3 by Monkey Punch – anyone on this blog knows I fell hard for Lupin this year. A goofy series about a world class thief and his team.

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline – probably the best book of the year for me. A post-apocolypse story based around the horror of residential schools, climate change, and illness

Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyers – look I loved the Twilight series too much as a teen when it was first coming out not to have gone head over heels for this. Unabashedly loved it.

No Fixed Address by Susin Nielsen – a Canadian novel about child poverty and homelessness, more light-hearted and hopeful than it sounds

The One And Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate – a gorilla that’s spent his entire life placidly living in a tiny mall exhibit meets a new friend and suddenly has something bigger to live for and protect

Our Dreams At Dusk by Shimanami Tasogare – one of the best queer manga series I’ve ever read, super artsy and focuses on the different complicated experiences by a number of different characters

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey – alternative history novella about a gay gunslinger and his team of hippo-cowboys in Louisana as they go on the biggest heist of their careers - so worth the read, this was tons of queer fun

Sanity & Tallulah by Molly Brooks – a graphic novel about the hijinks two young children (and aspiring mad scientists) can get up to on their space station home

The Witcher: The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski – can you believe The Witcher came out this year? Anyway, the novels were fucking amazing, some of the best high fantasy I’ve read in years

#book review #book reviews #chatter #canlit #canadian literature #queer literature #queer lit #the Witcher #river of teeth #sarah gailey #the one and only ivan #midnight sun #the marrow theives #lupin iii #gregor the overlander #a beautiful day in the neighborhood #mister rogers #our dreams at dusk #susin nielsen #the last book on the left #the last podcast on the left #king queens and inbetweens #the haunting of hill house #binti #behind the scenes #ouran highschool host club #berkeley breathed #flawed dogs #bloom county #linsey miller

[bazwillendinflames]

Wish For You

Read on AO3 

For Matteusz, he had hoped that travelling to the kingdom of Rhodia would bring a better life. Despite a job at the castle, his magic - forbidden by the Queen - and growing feelings for Prince Charles, have only complicated things.

For Prince Charles, tired of living in a carefully controlled world meant to protect him, seeks a night of escape, with the help of the closest thing he has to a true friend. A night at the Festival of Souls provides them both a night of freedom. But how free can you truly be when there's a part of yourself you're always hiding? 

(AKA A loosely based Merlin Marlie au)

Part One - Magic

Matteusz did his chores by hand, even though it was so early the grand hallways of the castle were practically deserted. He had seen the fate of magic users first hand within his first week in Rhodia. Even almost a year later, the smell of smoke still brought back uncomfortable memories of the woman’s screaming. 

He pushed open the Prince’s door without knocking and almost dropped the breakfast tray as Charles let out a startled yelp. Matteusz was equally surprised to see him awake so early - it was rare for him to be awake before Matteusz arrived. It was even rarer for him to awake and ready, although his shirt was ill-fitting and old. 

“My apologies Matteusz,” Charles said formally. 

“I should have knocked,” he said, not quite sure whether to comment on the fact Charles was usually sleeping at this time. “Your breakfast.” 

“Thank you.” 

Charles began eating, in the delicate way only nobles who had their next meal guaranteed could. Matteusz tried not to stare at him, although he was more concerned the Prince had gotten himself cursed again than the other reasons he sometimes found himself watching him . But Charles’ eyes were the same pretty blue, no hints of enchantment or glossiness there. (He always seemed to get himself in trouble, magical or otherwise. Matteusz wasn’t sure how the Prince made it to nineteen without him.) 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

Charles nodded. “Why would I not be?” 

They may be friendlier than Mattuesz suspected a Prince and a servant were meant to be - almost friends (which was enough, even if a part of him ached hopelessly for more) - but he still knew better than to push it. 

“No reason,” he answered politely instead, busying himself with lighting the fire. 

“What has my Mother planned for me today?” 

“Strategic meetings in the morning, training with the knights in the afternoon.” The same as every Friday. 

Charles’ handsome face twitched into a frown. “How… lovely. What of the evening?” 

“No plans I know of.” 

That seemed to please Charles, although he didn’t let on why. “Excellent.” 

Matteusz didn’t pry. As long as Charles did not get himself into danger (again), he was welcome to his secrets. 

Matteusz started tidying the room picking up crumpled clothes. Charles may be polite and remember the names of his servants but he was incredibly messy. He could afford to be in a house full of servants, part of him thought bitterly. Still, Matteusz enjoyed his job, he liked the quiet domestic mornings and he liked being at Charles’ side. He was lucky to get a job at the castle, even if it was a little tedious at times and he was too fearful to use magic. The paycheck that funded his sisters’ education kept him going. 

A canvas was set up in the corner, still wet at the edges. It must have been why Charles was awake so early, although Matteusz would never have guessed he was an artist. It was impressive, a beautiful painting of the Rhodian town square, lit up with hundreds of candles. Only half of the night sky was painted but Matteusz could tell it would be a gorgeous piece when finished. 

“Did you paint this?” He found himself asking. Then, as it was an obvious question he added: “it is very good.” 

Charles looked over at the canvas, his expression pained. “I did. I can explain-” 

“You are very talented,” Matteusz interrupted, hoping he wasn’t pushing any of the unspoken boundaries between them. “Is it ever lit up that way? With all the candles?” 

“Yes, candles,” Charles said quickly. “It’s how I imagine the town to look at night. I have not been able to see it like that.” 

“I would like to see it like that as well,” he agreed, “you make it look magical.” 

“Do not tell the Queen that,” Charles said dryly. Matteusz stepped back from the painting guiltily. But it was clear Charles was not being serious, just another of his jokes that did not land right. 

“Our secret,” he promised. 

Charles smiled at that and Matteusz made himself busy again. It would not do him well to linger on the fluttering in his chest for too long. A Prince and a servant - especially a foriegn one with magic -  like him would never work. (But it was nice to imagine sometimes. But only sometimes. If he indulged in Charles' smile for too long, he’d never get anything done at all.) 

With the prince busy all morning, Matteusz found himself in a cramped corner of the palace library. Tanya always seemed to know when he’d be away from Charles’ side and had ambushed him half-way through doing laundry. There had been little point arguing as he was dragged around the castle, although he made a token attempt at protesting anyway. 

“Shouldn't you be working?” 

She hushed him, balancing another scroll on the pile in his arms. Matteusz was sure they weren’t allowed to access the royal library for personal use but there was little point bringing it up to Tanya. She was both stubborn and clever enough to get away with it. Besides, she was one of his only friends. 

“Come on,” she hurried him along. 

Matteusz followed her, weaving through the many hallways and servant passages of the castle. It had been an impressive sight on his first day but there was always some new pathway or hiding spot he was learning of - impossibly, it was bigger on the inside. Tanya had taken them to a small room, the size of a cupboard, with two beds squeezed in and a rocky dresser in the corner. 

“Do not let anyone see you here.” 

“I won’t,” he promised. 

Tanya pulled on the bottom draw until he came out completely with a creak. A dozen scrolls were hidden there. 

“Clever,” he noted. Matteusz had hidden a few texts of his own - old books of magic from the old religion, half-translated to Polish by his Grandmother. Under the queen’s rule, it was important to know how to hide. 

“Thanks. I usually don’t take so many, but it was so busy today. Everyone is preoccupied with the festival today.” 

“What festival?” 

Tanya looked up from her scrolls. “You don’t- I keep forgetting you’re new. Tonight is the Festival of Souls. All staff get the night off. It’s tradition.”  

“That’s unexpectedly nice of the Queen.” 

“The Prince actually,” she corrected. 

Matteusz smiled. “Really?” 

Tanya wedged back the draw with force. “Come help me finish my chores so we can go early? And please take that sappy look off your face.” 

Matteusz followed her smiling. Tanya may drag him around the castle but at least she dragged him out of it too. A kingdom away from Cela, he had found himself another sister. 

   “So tell me more about this festival?” Matteusz asked.

They were taking the long walk on the outskirts of the castle, carrying heavy buckets of water out to the stables. As one of the younger servants, Tanya was usually stuck with grunt work like that. Matteusz had only been roped into helping her out of his own niceness. 

“It’s fun. There’s live music and nice food. At the end, we light candles that’s meant to be our soul’s wish.” 

“It sounds wonderful.” 

“You’re lucky you get to experience it for the first time.” 

They crossed over from the cobblestone bricks onto the uneven grass. It was a short cut that they desperately needed - Matteusz arms were starting to ache. 

“Thank the gods,” Tanya said, dropping the buckets on the ground. “I wish they’d just install a pump out here.” 

Matteusz put down his own load and sat by her on the ground. “We deserve a break.” 

“Agreed.” 

“Did someone say break?” April asked. “Count me in.” 

She ignored her own duties of taking the buckets in and joined them. April was one of the stable hands who looked after the castle horses. It was a job that suited her - she was very gentle with them. Matteusz had even caught her singing to them a few times. 

“Are you coming to the festival?” 

“If the right person asks me,” she replied coyly. 

“Are you talking about a certain knight?” Tanya teased. 

They were sat close enough to the training fields to make out the figures sparring with each other. 

“I might be.” April waved in their direction. The knight in question, Lord Singh, waved back and was knocked on the ground. He did his best to style it out, jogging over in their direction. 

“Here’s your chance,” Tanya muttered. “Oh hey Ram. You know you’re meant to stay on your feet during a fight, right?” 

“Funny.” He smiled at them charmingly. “I wasn’t expecting my fans.” 

“More like casual spectators,” Tanya replied, although it was clear his attention was now firmly directed at April. 

“I think that’s our sign to leave.” 

“Agreed.” They stood up to leave. 

Matteusz smiled over his shoulder. “Hope to see you later April.” 

“You will!” 

“Should I be jealous you have plans?” 

Matteusz almost laughed. He had far more interest in him than April. (Ram flirted with everyone. It said a lot about how smitten he was with Charles that Matteusz wasn’t taken by him more.) 

“Just the festival later. You know the one you’ll be taking me to later.” 

The pair continued flirting as Tanya and Matteusz walked back in the direction of the castle. 

“Good for her.” 

“Yeah.” She seemed a little wistful. “Wish it was that easy for people like us to find someone.” 

Matteusz’ thoughts ended up back to Charles. “And tell them,” he added. 

  “My apologies, I didn’t realise you were back from your training already.” 

Charles was sitting in front of his canvas, a smudge of dark blue paint on his chin. “No need to apologise.” 

“You didn’t go, did you?” 

“It may have slipped my mind,” Charles confessed. 

Matteusz peered over his shoulder at the painting he had been working on this morning. It was now near finished, with the indigo sky complete and a pale moon in the corner. “You really are talented.” 

“You flatter me,” he replied. But Mattuesz could tell from the smile that he enjoyed the flattery. 

“Is it the festival?” 

“It’s close. I’ve not yet been able to attend myself.” 

 The Queen was likely behind it: she was a paranoid woman. (She had enough reason to be paranoid, the magical community had targeted Charles a dozen times over her policies against them.) 

“I can tell you about it tomorrow.” 

“You’re attending?” Charles asked, turning away from his painting. 

“If I am allowed to?” 

He nodded. “Of course. It’s funny, in ways you have so much more freedom than I do.” 

“In some ways,” Matteusz replied, thinking of the flow of magic under his skin he was terrified to use. 

“Could I ask something of you?” There was a softness to the Prince’s voice that Matteusz had clung onto. He had a feeling whatever it was Charles would ask of him, he would agree. 

“Anything.” 

“Could you take me with you?” 

Part 2 - Magic

Part of Charles had been hoping that Matteusz would have lent him some clothes. It was strangely disappointing that he hadn’t - his painting clothes had been women enough to pass as commoner wear. Although perhaps if he claimed to be cold later, Matteusz would offer his jacket, or the soft looking scarf he usually wore. 

(Charles usually didn’t allow himself to linger too long on Matteusz like that. There were a hundred good reasons not to linger on the way Matteusz had tenderly wiped paint from his face earlier. It wouldn’t end well, for either of them.)  

As if Matteusz could tell what he was thinking, he looked over (or down, more accurately) at him. “Are you alright?” 

Charles felt his cheeks flush. “Yes.” 

Matteusz smiled at him. Perhaps his simpler clothing was doing something good: it seemed like they were almost equals. Matteusz rarely smiled at him as much whilst he was working. 

“I can see from here.” 

Charles followed him, catching sight of the lights threaded amongst the trees and windowsills of the square. He had only been in the town square a few times before and never in under conditions. This was no emergency evacuation due to cursed wells or an unfortunate face off with an embittered magic welder. (Or, on one special occasion, a dragon.) 

The square was far from the state of chaos he was used to. The festival was filled with dozens of lights, meant to represent the souls of their lost family and friends. There were small stalls, with barrels of ale or delicious smelling foods. A band played music in the centre. 

“It’s so much more than I was ever able to imagine.” 

“You can try and repaint it,” Matteusz suggested. 

“Some things are just too beautiful to really capture.” 

“You don’t know until you’ve tried.” 

Under the waves of gentle candle light, his warm brown eyes were almost golden. It was hard not to get caught up in it all, so Charles forced himself to step away. He was still a prince after all, no matter how free he felt or how simple he was dressed. 

“Best not to. I don’t want to give us- me away.”

Matteusz seemed to get the underlying message and nodded. “Yes, of course sir.” 

“You know I hate that,” Charles said, hoping his exaggerated frustration would lighten the mood. 

Matteusz looked almost relieved. But before Charles could really analyse his expression, Mattuesz was pushing forward through the crowd towards the cluster of stalls. 

They stopped at a few stalls, browsing the various wares there. Matteusz picked up a set of two woven bracelets. A matching set. 

Charles swallowed back any jealousy. It wasn’t his business to ask who it was for, Matteusz was allowed to have a life outside of his work. 

“Best ale in the kingdom,” Matteusz said. He was talking to the old woman who ran the stall with an easy charm. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere young man,” she replied. Her accent was similar to Matteusz’ own - she must be from the edge of the kingdom as well. “Who’s this?” 

“A friend from the palace,” Matteusz answered. 

“Ah. Another unlucky soul?” 

Charles stayed quiet, mildly alarmed. Maybe his Mother was right when she told him there was danger everywhere. 

“But we have so kindly been given a day off,” Matteusz replied. 

It hadn’t occurred to Charles that Matteusz might actually want to spend his day off away from him. He couldn’t imagine any of his past servants doing the same for him. 

Matteusz paid for the drinks, passing a tall glass of a dark ale to him. 

Charles gave it an experimental sip and spluttered on the bitter taste. He was glad Matteusz was turned away for that one. 

They moved away from the stalls, crossing a group of giggling young women pushing past in the other direction, knocking their bags into him and splashing their drinks. 

“It seems like your disguise is working.” 

Charles rubbed at the dark stain now on his arm. “Yes. Maybe too well.” 

“Surely it is nice to be invisible for once?” 

“It’s certainly… a change.” He sighed. “Although if we could escape the crowd, I’d appreciate it.” 

Just a small comment had alerted him to all the unknowns in the crowds. It would only take one magic user with a grudge to cause chaos. 

Matteusz seemed to sense his anxiety and reached for his hand, navigating them through the masses of people into a more secluded corner. 

“Better?” 

Charles nodded, trying to ignore how his hand was tingling. (He had once fought a magic user who shot bolts of lightning at people. It felt similar - like all his nerves were on edge.) 

“I will get us new drinks.” 

Charles found himself suddenly alone, in a quiet corner at the edge of everything he had ever dreamed of seeing. He closed his eyes and let the sounds wash over him: endless chatter, musical warm ups from the band, laughter. He could still feel the warmth of Matteusz's hand in his own. 

This was a life that Charles could imagine for himself if he had been born common. Visiting the festival every year, not having to worry about meetings or magic or pleasing the Queen. Marrying for love, not power. 

It was merely a fantasy - and it would only ever stay a fantasy. But it was nice to imagine otherwise. 

“We have a good view of the musicians.” 

Charles opened his eyes again, with Matteusz now by his side. 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Oh there’s April.” Matteusz pointed at the dark haired woman holding a fiddle. “She works at the palace. We should be careful though, Lord Singh is with her.” 

“You know a lot about the palace.” 

“They’re my friends.”

Charles wanted to ask what that was like but he didn’t want to look too naive. He busied himself by trying the ale again, but the taste hadn’t improved. 

Matteusz tried his best to hide it but Charles caught the laughter behind his hand. 

“Are you laughing at me?” 

“No.” 

“I can hear you.” 

Matteusz moved his hand, revealing his bright smile. It was almost enough for him to be forgiven. “Okay. Just a little. I’ve seen you drink caskets of wine in the kingdom with no problem.” 

“They taste nice!” 

Matteusz took a long sip of his own drink. “You’ll get used to it.” 

They say in a peaceful quiet. They were positioned perfectly to watch couples dance to the music played. Now Matteusz had mentioned it, he could make out Lord Singh spinning the pretty musician girl. 

“Must be nice to dance without such strict rules.” 

“Yes,” Matteusz agreed, sounding a little wistful. 

Charles took a longer gulp of his ale before asking: “do you have anyone to dance with? If you hadn’t escorted me?” 

“Escorted?” Matteusz seemed amused. “You’re a little old for a babysitter.” 

…Which wasn’t answering his question. 

“But no,” he answered. “I had someone back home but I had to leave him behind.” 

Him. Charles tried not to overthink it. 

“Do you miss it?” 

“Dancing?” Matteusz asked. “I am not very good.” 

“Having someone.” He felt his face flush again. At least it was darker now and less obvious. He could always blame the ale. 

“It was nice.” He looked away from the couples. “I miss other parts of home more. Like my sister. I send her gifts when I can. Like the bracelets I brought earlier. She likes to make ones like them.” 

Charles felt a little foolish. “You don’t mention her a lot.” 

“I miss her,” Mattesuz replied. 

“I sometimes wish I had a sibling,” Charles confessed. “To share the burden of being a prince.” 

“Must be lonely.” 

He looked over to Matteusz, reliably by his side as always. “Not always.” 

  Wobbling slightly, Charles was starting to regret his second and third ales. It had taken them to finally pluck up the courage to ask Matteusz to dance with him. It had been ungraceful, yet freeing, to be spun around in hazy circles. 

“I’m dizzy.” 

“I’m sure you are.” Was Matteusz laughing at him? He found it more endearing than anything else. They had both let their guard down. 

“I wish I was normal so we could do this everyday.” 

“The festival is only once a year.” 

“Then I’ll make it law to happen everyday.” 

“Normal people can’t make laws.” Matteusz was definitely teasing him now. “This way.” 

“I’d run away after.” 

“You can’t just run away.” 

Charles frowned. “You did. You left everything you knew.” 

“Yeah. But it is different. They need me to be here, even if it's dangerous for me. Rhodia needs you right where you are.” 

“How is it dangerous?” He asked. “Magic?” 

Matteusz stopped for a moment and Charles stumbled into his back. 

“It’s okay. I’ll protect you from the evil magicians Matti.” 

“Don’t call me that,” he replied. All the fun sucked out of the conversation suddenly. 

Even in his inebriated state, Charles knew when to shut up. 

“This is a bad idea.” 

“Is it?” 

“This shortcut I mean.” Matteusz glanced over down the steep hill. “Not when you’re like this.” 

“I’m fine,” Charles shot back. He didn’t want Matteusz to think he was incapable of walking. 

“Wait, don’t-” Matteusz called, his voice the last thing Charles heard before he slipped.

   Charles had fallen down a hill, in the darkness of early morning, and woken up to the natural light pouring through his open curtains. He had expected the light to sting but he felt okay, minus a fogginess in his head. 

Matteusz was nowhere to be seen. He was usually on time for his duties, but maybe Charles had just missed him. There was tea and breakfast on the side, fresh clothes and the open window. Charles just hoped he hadn’t done anything stupid yesterday. 

(Charles could remember looking up at him, opening his mouth, a horrified expression on Matteusz face. He couldn’t remember what he said, which was somehow worse.) 

He dressed himself. In the mirror, he spotted a small scratch on his forehead. (He could remember falling last night. Maybe just the stairs. He was drunk after all.) 

Matteusz was still missing as Charles went about his day. He had done his lessons alone, then was served by a new servant at lunch. By the time his mother had her meetings, he was convinced Mattuesz was avoiding him. He let Councillor Ames speech wash over him, recounting the last night’s events again, trying to find where he went wrong. 

Charles recalled his face when he had called him ‘Matti', his warning of caution, then a weightless falling, as if time slowed down. That part felt even blurrier, perhaps he had hit his head, even if it didn’t hurt. In fact, he hadn’t even been hungover. It was like- 

“Magic,” Ames was saying, “is evil.” 

(“Magic,” Charles recalled himself saying yesterday, “but you’re not evil.”) 

“Yes, my lord?” 

Without realising he had stood up. It wasn’t just the councillor’s eyes on him, but the whole meeting room. “Um, I agree with the councillor.” 

“What was she saying?” 

He winced: the queen never went easy on him. “Er.” 

“Just go Charles,” she said sternly, “it’s clear your mind is elsewhere.” 

“My apologies,” he said. Usually being told off like a child would be upsetting, but there was already something else on his mind. 

Charles forced himself to walk out the room slowly. Once he was back in the empty hall, he took off running towards his room. He sunk into his bed, shaking, as the events of the night before finally clicked into place. 

  He had been falling, Mattuesz shouting something. Not for help, something else. Words he didn’t recognise. 

Charles had stopped falling, more like drifting, like a feather caught in the wind. The world suddenly slowed, until he had harmlessly landed on a patch of grass and wildflowers that hadn’t been there before. 

Matteusz had gotten down too, suddenly crouched in front of him. He had wiped the small scratch on his face gently and suddenly the bleeding had stopped. 

“Are you okay?” 

Charles was dazed. “You did something.” 

“No I didn’t,” Matteusz said, too quickly. “You just got lucky.” 

“No, it was you,” he had repeated, with clarity. “I was floating, it was like…” 

“Don’t say it.” 

But he had said it. “Magic. You have magic. But you’re not evil.” 

“I’m not anything.” 

“It all makes sense,” he had said, feeling suddenly sober, “all those fights we won - that was you. I thought I was special. I thought I was a hero.” 

“I needed to protect you,” Matteusz whispered. “I will keep protecting you. I’m sorry.” 

He had put his hands on his face and for a second Charles had thought he was going to be kissed. Instead, there was just blankness, nothing. 

Matteusz had made him forget. 

Charles had finally caught up with Matteusz after training with his knights. He had fought better than usual, filled with so much anger that he had even managed to beat Lord Singh. 

He had been with the same musician they saw yesterday, watching from a distance. 

“Let’s go for a ride,” he had suggested. The musician girl had been a stable hand and given them a horse each and they headed into the quietness of the forest. 

“How’s your head?” There was a forced playfulness to Matteusz’ voice. 

“Alright, considering how far I fell.” 

Matteusz had stopped. “I-” 

“I remember.” Charles stopped his horse and slid off him. “Have you made me forget other things?”

“No, never. I only ever used my magic to help you. Memory spells are tricky.” 

“You used untested dark magic on me?” 

Charles was starting to wonder if going somewhere alone with a magic user was a bad idea. If it was up to his Mother, Matteusz would be executed by the next morning. (He couldn’t let that happen. Charles couldn’t be that wrong about him.) 

“It wasn’t dark magic,” Matteusz said, “no magic is dark-” 

“Experience tells me otherwise. Magicians killed my Father.” 

“I know and I’m sorry that happened. But we are not all like that.” Matteusz stepped back, like he was the one to be afraid. “I will leave tonight. You won’t have to see me again. Please, don’t tell the queen.”

“How could you say that?” Charles asked. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“You have done it to others like me,” Matteusz said. He still looked scared. 

“Is that why you didn’t tell me the truth?” 

“It is dangerous to be magic,” he explained. “I could take no chances.” 

“I understand. I have my own secrets. Even from you.” 

Matteusz didn’t ask. (He wished he would. Then he could do something. One kiss, if he really was going to leave, if Charles was allowed one indulgence.) 

“For what it’s worth, I wish for you to stay. I will keep your secret. You have saved my life so many times, I owe you that.” 

Mattuesz looked relieved. “Thank you.” 

(When Charles woke up the next morning, it was Matteusz opening the curtains and letting the light in.)

#marlie #matteusz andrzejewski #charlie smith #class bbc #class dw

[itsmyregularcat]

Influenced by @white-cat-of-doom, and his Cats dream cast (please check it out), I have made my own.

This is going to be a tough one to figure out, but here is my Cats dream team, as of today.

I wish to see more productions to be better informed in my choices, so I need to get on some bootlegs I guess! (Some choices are actually going to be based off of assumptions of how the actors portray them).

I already know a bunch of my choices are going to be from the Broadway Revival (because I really like that production), and almost all are going to be from newer productions because I am way more familiar with them.

In alphabetical order:

Admetus / Macavity: Thomas Inge (Asia Tour 2017/2020 and UK International Tour 2018/9)

I quite like the Macavity redesign for Vienna 2019 and Asia 2020, so he gets the nod just for this. Otherwise, he is an established Admetus and seems to have fun with it.

Alonzo / Rumpus Cat: Fletcher Dobinson (Asia Tour 2020)

I have never seen him perform as Alonzo, but he has this energy about him I cannot really describe. From short videos I have seen, he seems to have a 'snarky' side, and just has a hell of a time flirting about with everyone during curtain calls. He has the moves.

Bill Bailey / Tumblebrutus: Kolton Krouse (Broadway Revival 2016 / Cats 2019)

They can fly with the best of them. Their flip in with the ball during the end of the Old Gumbie Cat is a cool addition. No strong feelings for this character though.

Bombalurina: Rosemarie Ford (Cats 1998)

If anyone exemplifies what it means to be Bombalurina, I think Rosemarie wins. The duality of caring attitude and scornful nature, combined with her moves and her voice all make her a top pick. Also, slightly older Bombas I feel are better?

Honourable mentions: Christine Cornish Smith (Broadway Revival 2016) for sure, Suzie Melloy (Asia 2017/2020), and Tanya Valenzuela (Mexico 2018).

Carbucketty / Pouncival: Joel Morris (South Africa 2008 / UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014 / International Tour 2016)

He does a relatively good job being juvenile, but not annoying in his role. Him screwing around during Tugger's song, Moments Of Happiness, and Skimbleshanks is actually endearing to a point. No strong feelings for this character though.

Cassandra: Mariah Reives (US Tour 6)

Another pick I have never seen during performances, but she looks like a good Cassandra. She is really pretty and appropriately tall, so ¯\_( ツ)_/¯. Bonus points for her lighting up during Misto's song.

Honourable mentions: Jessica Buckby (2013 UK Tour), Danielle Cato (International Tour 2019), and Emily Pynenberg (2016 Broadway Revival)

Coricopat: Corey John Snide (2016 Broadway Revival)

He pairs up very well with my top Tantomile pick, and cannot realistically be separated. This legend was also a dance captain, involved with Cats 2019, and did a split track cover of Coricopat and Jennyanydots during his run.

Demeter: Zizi Strallen (London Revival / Palladium 2014)

Real talk, I love her as Tantomile in Cats 2019, and her singing voice is beautiful and distinct. Her as Demeter is a good bet, and she gives off a happy vibe during less serious points of the show. That happiness she puts in 2019 Tanto is what she did with 2014 Demeter.

Honourable mention: Lisette Pagler (Gothenburg 2006 / Stockholm 2009). The OG grey Demeter. She is absolutely beautiful, and her non-rep portrayal design is neat. She is also an actual singer in Sweden, so her voice is top notch. I really like her as Demeter. Also, Ella Nonini (International Tour / Asia 2020).

Electra: Leah Sue Morland (Cats 1998) or Lili Froehlich (2016 Broadway Revival)

I cannot reasonably pick one over the other, I have disproportionately strong feelings for both. Lili made me fall in love with Electra as a character (and I mean, look who my icon is!), and Leah cemented it before and after me seeing the Broadway Revival. They both make a modest ensemble cat seem so much more important. One of my favourite Cats across any production.

Etcetera: Jo Bingham (Cats 1998)

Boundless energy and happiness rolled into one bouncy cat. No one had a better time during Cats 1998, and for a cat that does not appear in many production afterwards, Jo just said f*ck it and did whatever seemingly came to mind to forge a legacy. Biting Coricopat’s ass remains a landmark moment in cinema. One of my favourite cats in the film without a doubt.

George: Frank Thompson (Cats 1998)

He is sort of always there, enjoying himself. If I would cut a cast member, George would be it. Sorry George.

Gus / Bustopher Jones / Growltiger: Rory Campbell (UK Tour / Zurich / London)

Dignified Busto. A good Gus that does not play off too much about being old and decrepit. If done properly, Growltiger (for the sake of Griddlebone) should make a return to more productions. Remove the total racism and the open misogyny inherent to many portrayals of Growltiger, and make it strictly about the lovers.

Grizabella: Jennifer Hudson (for real) (Cats 2019)

I know this one will ruffle feathers, but her sad sap performance is quite unrivaled in Cats. She brought the gloom and the dejection of being casted out to life. Her singing Memory is powerful as all hell, and filled with emotion. She wins the screaming match.

Jellylorum / Griddlebone: Freya Rowley (Cats 2019)

At this point you are probably thinking, ‘my lord, what the hell is this person on about?’. Freya does not sing in the movie, and is just a background cat, but my god is she the best cat there! During her time with actual stage productions, she was a principle Tantomile, and covered Demeter, Jelly, Jenny, and Cassandra as swing. I know she can sing (even though I have never heard it), and I want to hear / see her as the most novel Griddlebone around. Big orange energy - get with it.

Honourable mention: Sarah Jean Ford (2016 Broadway Revival)

Jemima: Veerle Casteleyn (Cats 1998 / London / Dutch Tour)

The most vanilla choice, but she was the face of Jemima / Sillabub and the Cats ‘franchise’ when the 98 film first came out, and rocketed her character to great importance and notoriety. They used her for promo shots after the movie came out realizing how popular her character had become. Veerle is the innocence of youth personified. By the way, I am taking her without the overdub.

Honourable mention: Arianna Rosario (2016 Broadway Revival / US Tour 6) and Dawn Williams (UK Tour 2013)

Jennyanydots: Eloise Kropp (2016 Broadway Revival)

A younger Jenny still as wild as any other. Her greater involvement during the show is also cool to see. The changes they made to the Broadway Revival may irk some, but the Gumbie Cat scene with the choreography change is my favourite I have seen so far. Eloise does a really good job, and has a chaotic energy that draws me to her.

Mistoffelees: Laurie Davidson (Cats 2019)

On my pursuit of pissing off the purists, here is another controversial choice. He provides a character development that I think would work out well on stage. Imagine it for a second, with Tugger or Munk hyping him up. No Mistoria though.

Honourable mention: Joseph Poulton (UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014)

Munkustrap: Jack Rebaldi (London / Madrid / Paris / Dusseldorf / German Tours)

The man is a serious Munk, who is versatile with his portrayals. He gets so into playing the character, and seems to be having a great time doing it. Plus, how the hell can someone do Munk in English, Spanish, French, and German in the course of three years? Madness.

Honourable mentions: Robbie Fairchild (Cats 2019) and friend-shaped Michael Gruber (Broadway / Cats 1998)

Mungojerrie: Drew Varley (Australia 1993 / London / Cats 1998)

One half of the chaotic duo present in Cats 1998, with an oustanding level of dumbassery and foolishness that encompasses Jerrie. He encapsulates that attitude very well, and pairs perfectly with my top Rumpleteazer.

Honourable mention: Dante Hernandez (Mexico 2013 / 2018)

Old Deuteronomy: Nicholas Pound (London / UK Tours / Palladium 2014 / International Tour)

A bit of a different choice, considering most people would likely pick Ken Page (and for good reason). Mr. Pound has a great voice, and welcoming vibe. Behind the scenes, he is a chaotic Old D. Plus, his name is Dick Pound.

Rum Tum Tugger: John Partridge (UK Tour / London / Cats 1998 / Berlin / Dusseldorf)

Velvety smooth voice, swagger coming out the hip thrust, and a playfulness suitable for the rockstar cat. No contest with this choice. He also does not play of RTT as being childish or over the top (*cough 2016 Broadway Revival / US Tour 6*), which is appreciated. Sorry Tyler Hanes, your vlogs were delightful, but your Tugger was a bit too much.

Rumpleteazer: Jo Gibb (London / Cats 1998)

Jo Gibb is the reason I became super obsessed with Cats, and probably why my favourite character is Rumple. Having initially seen the 2019 movie before the 1998 film, seeing her smiling face and adorable portrayal made me sort of fall in love with her. She is a perfectly mischievous Rumple, and I feel is the benchmark for most others. Her engagements with other characters is awesome, and she is just the ideal actor. Also, Cockney accent Rumple is best Rumple I do not make the rules.

Honourable mentions: Every other Teazer. All of them. There is no bad one. They all have my heart.

Skimbleshanks: Steven McCrae (Cats 2019)

Big daddy Skimble, with the red pants and the moustache. Tap dancing and ballet powerhouse. WOO WOO. Enough said.

Tantomile: Emily Tate (2016 Broadway Revival)

Given all Tantos do not really have an opportunity to set themselves apart because they are more of an ensemble Cat, I liked Emily from the beginning I saw her, and I think she is really cute. Her, paired with CJS, make a pretty ideal Cori and Tanto. Maybe I am swayed by the amount of lifts and spins they do together during the show? They have a beautiful synchronization and grace with their movements. 

Weaponize your Tantomiles, helicopter her above your Coricopats and take over. Kill Macavity. Become the Everlasting Cat.

Honourable mention: Kaye Brown (London / UK Tour / Cats 1998), Melody Rose (US Tour 6), Helen Gulston (RCCL Cruise). Realistically, all Tantos are good. I like Tantomile.

Victoria: Georgina Pazcogiun (2016 Broadway Revival)

A prominent soloist with the New York ballet, renowned for her distinctive style, and you can appreciate that if you watched a 2016 bootleg show. She has also pushed out against ballet norms by being "The Rogue Ballerina" as a means of embracing the qualities that make her unique as a dancer, such as her 'bigger' (in terms of ballet) body type. Her unique style as Victoria makes her my choice. Plus, she be sneaky.

Honourable mentions: Hannah Kenna Thomas (UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014 / International Tour / Vienna Revival), Tyler Lotzof (Asia Tour 2020), Alicia Beck (UK Tour 2013), Phyllida Crowley Smith (London / Cats 1998). Realistically, all Vics are good.

Any way, there is my shitshow of a production.

#cats musical #cats the musical #cats movie #cats 1998 #cats film #admetus #macavity #bill bailey #tumblebrutus #bombalurina #demeter #skimbleshanks #mungojerrie and rumpleteazer #mungojerrie #rumpleteazer #victoria the white cat #tantomile #coricopat #coricopat and tantomile #rum tum tugger #old deuteronomy #munkustrap #mistoffelees #jennyanydots #jellylorum #jemima #sillabub #electra cats #etcetera cats #grizabella

[doof-doofblog]

"I Just Feel Sorry For You!"

Friday 4th December 2020

Good evening everyone! Hope you all had a brilliant weekend, I unfortunately have been working all through the weekend and it looks to be another busy week ahead for me! This is the episode I've been eager to be blogging about, it's the one that the majority of us all were waiting for, I feel like I'm so late to the party and I apologise that this is late!

But oh my goodness, what an absolutely fantastic episode!!!!!! THAT ENDING!!!! WOW, WOW, WOW! I will come to that a little later on, but boy, what a jam packed episode it was, I love how everything and everyone has/had some form of scenario of who could be Ian's attacker!

The first thing I kind I noticed when the episode started was the birds eye view of the Square, and how it call came down to seeing the man at the centre of the stage, Ian, walking down the Square. We know this is going to be a gripping episode as we know there are a lot of people who are going to be out for their revenge! Ian has hurt so many people in recent weeks/days, it was only a matter of time before someone was pushed over the edge and felt their need to get their own back on him.

Before we come to the juicy part, there are 2 or 3 main things I want to mention first about this episode, one being that Ian got arrested for mortgage fraud. Before he is even arrested though, Ben approaches him regarding his knowledge about his brother reporting him to the police, he is absolutely seething with his brother, almost to the point where he wants to go for him. Callum fights to keep Ben off his brother, Ian remains silent but keeps his distance from Ben, that is until the police turn up. Ben instantly assumes that they have come for him and puts his hands out ready to be handcuffed, however when they asked for Ian Beale, Ben steps to one side and is almost thrilled to see the police arrest his brother for something he's completely unaware of. I guess the most thrilling part of this, is that Ian is seen getting arrested by the majority of the community, some look happy, some look surprised, some just don't have a clue what's going on! But the one main person who's thrilled to see Ian getting arrested, is Tina - as she was the one who reported him in the first place!

The second thing I want to talk about is how such a fantastic actress Tanya Franks is! I absolutely love her, she nearly brought me to tears in this episode. Devastatingly, Stuart informs his wife, by giving her a document silently, that Keegan and Tiffany have changed their minds in regards to being her surrogate. She, at first, refuses to believe it and informs her husband to force the young couple to sign the document. But later on in the Square, Rainie sees the young couple walking away down the street, she runs towards them and begs them to change their mind. Even falling to her knees, in floods of tears, begging Tiffany to change her mind, she promises to be the best Mum she can be. You can see she's absolutely heartbroken to have such a treasured thing be taken away from her, it's as if her unborn baby has simply been snatched right out of her hands. To be honest, as Rainie is pleading on her knees and trying to reassure them that she'd do her best to be a good Mum, I'm sure neither of them doubt her for a second - she would make a good Mum, regardless of her past - being a Mum is all she's ever wanted, and she would live for her child! Tiffany kneels to Rainie's level, even though she is completely and utterly heartbroken, Tiffany deeply apologies for changing her mind and explains the reason has nothing to do with Stuart or Rainie, but the simple fact is that she's just not ready. At such a young age, it's hard for her to commit to such a huge agreement, she physically, emotionally and mentally can't do it. It's a devastating, heart wrenching blow for poor Rainie as she sobs and watches Tiffany and Keegan walk away. Tanya Franks was absolutely incredible in this scene, I almost felt I was going to cry myself, I feel for Rainie, I really do and I just hope, as Stuart says, they will find another way to have a child - even if they ask someone else to be their surrogate. Later on, as the heartbroken couple sit on Arthur's bench in the gardens, they see Ian walking towards them, Rainie can't help herself and blames Ian for talking to Whitney, as - to her realisation - she has convinced Tiffany not to go ahead and help them have a baby, it's then that Ian makes an awful insult to the couple and basically - in not so many words, say that they don't deserve a baby! Honestly, how cruel can someone get?!

The third thing I want to focus on is the Lucy Beale charity money, we all know that Ian stole the money from his deceased daughter's charity fund and transferred it into Max's account. However, to begin with Max was completely unaware where Ian got the money from, as far as he was concerned, Ian had simply paid an instalment of the money he owes him, it was later on that Ian revealed to him, after Linda won the Lucy Beale Award, where the money had come from - informing him that he'd simply framed him. In this episode, Max is in a blind panic as he visits Linda and informs her about the winning cheque. She is completely stunned to hear what Ian has done, but after he caught them kissing, it doesn't surprise her - she knew he would be up to something and make them know that they wouldn't get away with it. The interesting thing is, when Linda is told about the money, she takes it upon herself to inform the Beale brothers, simply stating that she can't cash in the cheque as the money has been stolen, from their own Dad and transferred into Max's account. I do feel sorry for Bobby at this point, Peter doesn't seem at all surprised as he knows that all their Dad cares about is money, but when Bobby checks the laptop, he devastatingly notices that all the money that had been raised has simply gone. As Linda leaves the young lads to it, she warns them that they need to stop their Dad from doing something he may regret. Once they're left alone, Bobby is seen counting on his fingers again and counting how many times he taps the laptop down, whilst he's doing this, Peter is informing him how he and Lucy grew up with their Dad making terrible decisions and watching him care about other things than them, but Bobby was too young to see and went to prison at such a young age, for a complete accident. He points out that Bobby was too young to understand, even mentioning that Ian doesn't care about how much he's tried to better himself since being released from prison and especially how the day in hand was meant to be one for their sister, but Ian managed to make it all about him. As Peter continues, Bobby can't seem to take anymore and smashes the laptop in a rage, to which Peter is finally happy to see his brother taking his anger out on their Father, it's then he says that Lucy shouldn't be the one who's dead, but Ian instead!  

Later on Tina informs her brother that she was the one who got Ian nicked by the police, she informs him excitedly that they be able to get the pub back. However, this is where Mick turns nasty once again to another one of his family members. He turns around and starts to insult his sister, telling her that getting the Queen Vic back in their name, is not going to help what is going on inside his head. This is where I begin to feel sorry for Tina, she's been trying so hard to cheer her brother up after seeing him so low over the past few weeks, of course she was only trying to be nice in getting the pub back for him. However, Mick insults her, telling her she's pathetic, how not only she, but no else understands what's going on inside his head and how getting the Vic back is not going to help, not even close. Tina is teary as her brother tells her leave, as she does - I've come to notice that she is the final person, in Mick's close family circle, that he has finally pushed away. First it was his Mum, Shirley, then his wife, Linda and now his sister, Tina. I do think that now Mick is going to find himself with no one, and he'll end up turning to Katy - which may be the most terrible idea! As Tina returns to the Square, she stares as the Queen Vic pub through tears, Ian watches her and approaches her from behind. It seems that he's discovered that she was the one who reported him to the police after Kathy drunkenly revealed the truth to her. Through angry, gritted teeth Tina informs Ian that the Vic doesn't belong to him and should belong to someone who deserves it, like Mick! But Ian laughs at her response and ironically says that they can have the Vic back - over his dead body! It's then she runs after him and informs him that everyone on the Square absolutely despises him and one day there is going to be a queue of people waiting to dance on his grave, and she will be the first in line! Ian doesn't seemed phased by her outburst, he simply shrugs and says he doesn't hate her, just feels sorry for her - suddenly Tina is enraged and barges into his house and shuts the door with an almighty BANG!

Then silence, blackness! It's night time - the camera draws in onto the Queen Vic, out of the dark shadows we see the silhouette of Ian, lying face-down on the Queen Vic floor, a visible wound to his head, and then - the montage begins! All of sudden we're seeing different characters with different scenarios, leaving the Vic, hiding in the darkness, covered in blood - all of whom have a motive of wanting Ian dead. This piece of film and editing was absolutely incredible! This is definitely EastEnders at it's absolute best!!! A classic WhoDunIt? Let's take a look at the suspects EastEnders have lined up:-

Who Attacked Ian?!

Tina Carter

Rainie Highway

Ben Mitchell

Stuart Highway

Peter Beale

Suki Panesar

Bobby Beale

Max Branning

I don't know about you guys, but I am completely and utterly excited to see this story continue, it's going to be so gripping to see how each one of these character's story play out in the next few episodes. I have a feeling that maybe over the next few episodes, or maybe even within the next few weeks - we'll see each and every one of those character's mentioned above, their story of that night in question! I for one, am so excited to see how each one unfolds! But could there be more suspects that we're unaware of? Could it actually be someone who's not in this list? What do you guys think?! Were you on the edge of your seat as much as I was?! Please feel free to leave me any comments or opinions, I'd love to hear your thoughts, on this episode especially! I'll always reply! Thanks a lot everyone! I'll be back very soon! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #ianbeale #bobbybeale #peterbeale #tinacarter #mickcarter #lindacarter #maxbranning #rainiecross #rainie highway #stuarthighway #benmitchell #callumhighway #ballum #suki panesar #keeganbaker #tiffanybutcher #kathybeale

[artsy-hobbitses]

Because my nostalgic ass had been wanting to do this for a SUPER long time, have some Humanized!Mighty Ducks! It’s funny to see how far I’ve kinda come, because I had a strong love for this and most other anthro shows back in the 90s bc they looks excellent but also because I couldn’t draw humans worth a god damn and ended up anthro-ing all the humans, but now I can human the anthros :’B Also because I have no self-control, actual human names and backgrounds below. I might actually have to write this AU at some point. 

WILLIAM ‘WILL’ FLETCHER ie. ‘WILDWING’

30yrs

Canadian (Eh)

Half-brother to Nate Fletcher (Same father, different mothers). Despite this, they have a generally good relationship with each other.

It doesn’t mean they don’t have their issues however; Will believes his father chose Nate as the man stayed with Nate and Nate’s mother, while Nate believes Will is the favorite because they never hear their dad stop comparing their accomplishments as a troubled teen to straightlaced Will.

A decorated ice hockey player in his youth, won several state championships.

Formerly a member of the Canadian Armed Forces, did a security stint in Afghanistan from 2009-2014.

Returned to Canada, opened a youth hockey camp to leave behind his old life before the Saurian threat at which point he was called up by his absentee military father to help spearhead a team of saboteurs.

Initially reluctant, however the death of his best friend and former army comrade, Connor Tiberius, during a rescue of captured citizens spurns him to accept on his terms in which he picks the team members.

Responsible, dependable, good-natured, more bookish than his size and stature might suggest, some self-esteem issues and very much a wary but bleeding heart. In his baby brother’s affectionate words, a “Major Dweeb”.

Trilingual; Canadian-French, English (fluent), Pashto (intermediate).

His codename ‘Wildwing’ came from Connor, who affectionately gave it to him as he was the best ‘wingman’ a soldier could ask for on the field and his habit of going from bookish to ballistic when faced with any injustice. His civilian outfit includes a bomber jacket with wings decorated over the back to commemorate his best friend.

Literally the only member of the team to actually be associated with ice hockey. The others picked it up gradually as a way to bond with each other and discuss battle tactics.

NATHAN ‘NATE’ FLETCHER ie. ‘NOSEDIVE’

20yrs

American

Half-brother to Will Fletcher, unofficially the ‘team baby’ which is something he tries hard to break out of.

Seen as a delinquent in his youth and battling with ADHD, his father strongarmed him to enlist with the Air Force when he was 17 to try and ‘shape him up’ and while he absolutely bucked under the chains of command, he proved to be a natural at flying which both amazed and frustrated his officers when he would ace their flying exams but often break out to fly the planes when he wasn’t suppose to.

Due to perceived attitude problems, he was dismissed much to the anger of his father, but was quickly roped into the same role by Will who saw his potential in combating Dragaunus’ forces.

Hotheaded, impulsive and immature but also loyal, gregarious and friendly to a fault.

Will not stand for anyone badmouthing Will. That’s his brother and only he’s allowed to joke about them.

Codename ‘Nosedive’ was chosen because of the stunts he used to pull in the plane and also as a take-that moment to his father who would often complain about how everything good they tried to do for ‘this kid’ would ‘nosedive into shit’.

Oscillates between loving Will as the only family member to have really given a damn about him and see any potential in him at all and resenting Will for in his eyes, being everything he felt he couldn’t be.

Often in charge of flying the team jet.

Bilingual; English (fluent), Canadian-French (beginner. For Will, he’s trying).

MALLORY MACKENZIE

27yrs

Irish-American

A former cop who idolized her Sergeant mother who was killed helping to defend NYC from Dragaunus’ marauding forces.

She knows Will as a good friend through Connor Tiberius who was an old boyfriend prior to his death.

Has been tracking Duke’s movements for some time prior to the invasion, dead-set on bringing the jewel thief to justice. Not particularly enthused about his way of life, but does care for him in her own way as it was during their little chases that she would have conversations she couldn’t have had otherwise with someone she believed would have no role to play in her life outside of prison time.

When he consoled her after the death of her mother and she had to tend to him after he was gravely injured during a rescue, a strained friendship grew as they defended NYC together for a while with her banding together the remaining cops of the Central Park precinct and him putting together a coalition of small-time criminals who turned their tricks to beat off the alien invasion until Will called her up as a member of his new saboteur team.

In a spur of the moment, she asked Duke to come with her, vouching for his set of skills to Will and despite their back-and-forth snarking (mostly snarking from her, mostly teasing from him), they work with each other the best out of the team.

Her hatred for Draganus is strongest out of all the team and of all of them, she’s the most adept at hand-to-hand combat.

Has no use for code names—-the people she loves are dead or on the same team as her so she sees no point to it.

Pugnacious, Black-And-white view of the world and judgmental but also confident, decisive and fiercely determined. If she has her mind set something, she’s Terminator levels of terrifying to see it through.

Speaks only English but understands Arabic and French to an intermediate degree even if she can’t trust her tongue to speak it, if only to understand what Duke is saying at times (as he unwittingly tends to jump between his three ‘fluent’ languages in conversation).

DULQUER LATEEF ie. ‘DUKE L’ORANGE’

35yrs

French-Algerian

A renown jewel thief (simply known as the ‘Duke’) with a knack for stealing blood diamonds from diamond barons to channel their proceeds back to the communities they were pilfered from. Actually thinks the diamond industry is a huge joke, but it’s a joke some morons pay insanely dangerous amounts of money for. Prefers other jewels on a personal basis (fond of rubies and amethysts)

Ran his own gang back in France called the Brotherhood of the Blade, got caught up in the invasion when he decided to work his heists in New York.

His codename came from the inability of people to properly pronounce his name in his youth and so ‘Dulq’ became ‘Duke’ in due time. ‘L’Orange’ was what happened when having to come up with a surname on the spot during a heist in the States, he blurted out the first vaguely-French word he could remember which was ‘L’Orange’ ie. ‘duck a l’orange’ which was what a former target of his ordered and when his gang brethren found out, it amused them so much they talked him into keeping it as a full part of his nom de plume. He keeps it, because it helps his remaining family stay safe that no one knows his real name and he prefers it that way.

He and Mallory had something he likes to describe as a ‘dance’, with her continuously tracking him down and him escaping her clutches at the last moment. He’s absolutely tickled that they’re now on the same team.

Cares for the team the deepest due to having run his own back home and missing the brotherhood and his own family, always aware of everyone’s emotional and physical condition to the point he disregards his own at times.

Seriously, hurt his new family and you die.

The most streetwise of the team and adept with any form of blade-play and stealth/subterfuge.

Lost his eye and gained the scar on his face fending off ‘Wraith’ for as long as he could from a geologist with knowledge of Beryllium crystals.

The cybernetic eye he hides behind his eyepatch was given to him by Mallory who came across it while evacuating scientists (Including Tanya) from a lab under siege. She obtained it as willing ‘payment’ from them and had them help install it on Duke, claiming that he was only as much use to the rebellion as the clarity of his depth of field. (In truth, was well aware of how shaken he was from the loss of his eye). Cybernetic eye has x-ray and heat-seeking capabilities.

Fond of Mallory (who he may or may not be harboring feelings for but is also aware that he’s greying, a criminal and damaged, like who’s he kidding), Tanya (something of a younger sister to him especially since she’s the scientist who helped install his new eye) and Will (who he treats like a little brother he gotta teach the workings of the streets to).

Egoistical, questionable morals and unconcerned with ‘the big picture’ of global invasion but also surprisingly compassionate, open-minded and does his best to see the good in everyone (He’s a thief eh?)

Something of an omniglot due to his background and the different people he ends up having to work with; Fluent in French, English and Arabic, intermediate in Mandarin, Spanish and Italian, beginner in Japanese and Russian.

TANYA VANDERBILT

30yrs

German

A scientist working mostly with cyberkinetics who also made use of Beryllium crystals (the same the Saurians are coveting) in her technology and upon the invasion, her entire lab and research became a target.

She was rescued by Mallory and has since then tagged along with the fiery redhead who sees her as a sister, augmenting her gear and weapons where needed and even providing Duke with his energy sword.

Absolutely not a combatant, has no field experience and is most often found back at the base playing her role as Command central or guarding the ship while the group go on their recon missions.

Sees herself as deadweight sometimes though her comrades will always attest that they’d probably be dead out there if not for her tech and in-depth knowledge.

Meek, easily terrified and a bit of a pushover, but also innovative, multi-talented in diverse sections of science and always eager to help.

Speaks English and German, understands intermediate Japanese due to most of her lab co-workers.

CASSIUS ‘CASH’ HARDING ie. ‘GRIN’

40yrs

African-American

Originally a pro-wrestler working the circuits, he was caught up in the Saurian invasion and captured as a test subject in order for the invaders to figure out the biological weaknesses and breaking point of humans at their prime.

Was the subject of multiple experiments, but strove to keep up the spirits of his fellow prisoners by way of story, meditation and keeping a genial facade.

Was among the prisoners Conrad attempted to free before they died, led the prisoner rebellion and immediately joined up as a member of Will’s team upon finding out that he was Conrad’s best friend—-paying off his dues, as it were.

Unfortunately for the Saurians, their experiments had been in the midst of testing out how much augmented strength a human body could take before breaking, which left him with well, augmented strength to go with an extremely high pain threshold from both his old job and his ordeal. That said, the strength comes with a caveat that prolonged use of it could lead to organ failure due to the strain he has to put on them and thus he’s only able to work with it for short bursts of five to ten minutes depending on the task.

Despite his size, is generally the pacifist of the group more concerned with keeping people safe than facing down Dragaunus’ hordes—he leaves that to the actual soldiers. If you pissed him off in some way, you have fucked up super bad.

Bonds with Will and Nate quickly, rather like a stable older brother or uncle figure who realizes these two worlds-apart siblings have issues and are way over their head with these new responsibilities and tries his best to keep them grounded.

Hesitant, tendency to shy away from confrontation and almost on an emotional lockdown but also amicable, stoic and uncannily perceptive.

Speaks mostly English with a strong smattering/understanding of Jamaican Creole.

The codename ‘Grin’ came from his tendency to ‘grin and bear it’ when it came to punishment or altercations.

#mighty ducks #mdtas #humanized #90s cartoons #art

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 11-Profit

Profit

Definition

1. A financial gain, especially the difference between the amount earned and the amount spent in buying, operating, or producing something.

2. Advantage; benefit.

Summary: Pierce has always had an eye for opportunity, and that doesn’t change with his time in the Saints, now the Sons of Samedi aren’t his jurisdiction but that doesn’t mean he can’t offer helpful advice, right?

Words: 1,453

Money talks, Pierce had known that from a younger age than most, they always say money can’t buy happiness, that it isn’t everything, but in Pierce’s opinion those that said that usually knew nothing about struggling. If money was the only barrier between not eating right for a week or two, when you finally got food in you’d be laughing right?

      Money had also seen the rich judges son spared jail when Pierce had been locked up and the key thrown away, they were both dealing, they were both ex Vice Kings, it should have been fair. But it wasn’t. It never would’ve been. So when Pierce finally gotten out of jail he swore he’d do everything in his power to get money at any cost, to be rich, to be famous, so that the system couldn’t touch him.

     When he got out of jail however, he found Stilwater burning, and burning far worse than he had seen at the height of his stint in the Vice Kings, and his money making schemes were abandoned in favour of just staying alive. You watch, you wait, you build of course, a sentiment from Benjamin King he still held close to the chest, he would get his shot, he just had to wait it out. So the day he got that call from Gat out of the blue he saw his chance.

“O’Connor’s comin’ to get you, be ready.” was the sign off to the call, and after putting what would be his future Boss to the test, he knew this was where he had to be, cleaning up the city and maybe making a bit of money while he was at it.

       Boss was...difficult sometimes to say the least, charging headfirst into everything and everyone was a bit of a culture shock for someone that modelled himself after King, but he was learning to adapt. Or at least he thought he was, some days all he and Boss would do was argue all day, and it would put that in doubt.

       He tried to tell her, many times that whatever she needed he could get it done, he was confident, he got this, just listen and she’d take offence, but it wasn’t his fault he was competent, he just wanted her to see that. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“And it isn’t mine either.” she snapped, “thank you very much.”

“I’m just sayin’, if we want to corner the Loa dust market, it isn’t enough to just destroy the Samedi’s, we need to have a hook, we need to have them keep comin’ back to us.” he said, and the Boss just stared at him. Her stare was intense, made him squirm in his seat like he was going to get the biggest telling off of his life, she shook her head, the hand she was was resting her head on shifted, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

“Why are you telling me things I already know, what’s your problem?”

“Problem? There’s no problem, I’m just trying to make you rich.”

“Great, then make me rich instead of just telling me you’re gonna make me rich.”

“We need a hook.” he repeated, and Shea turned her head to where Shaundi and Laura sat in awkward silence on the other side of the table with a smirk.

“Laura darling, put crack cocaine in the Loa dust I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Pierce asked,

“Boss, we can’t put crack cocaine in the Loa dust.” Shaundi said, deadpan.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Pierce repeated, and Boss whipped her head back round to face him, the look she was giving him definitely putting him in mind of his hardass principal from middle school. It didn’t make either women any less terrifying however. He stood his ground though, he had to. She would respect that at least. “What’s your problem?” he asked her, and he saw both her eyebrows raise, heard Shaundi hiss, grimacing as though someone stabbed her with a red hot poker.

“Shaundi, Laura give us five minutes yeah.” Boss finally said, and they left in a flurry, eager to be out of there as Shea’s eyes never left his face, and it was then that he wondered if he’d made a mistake. “You wanna know what my problem is?” she asked.

“I know what your problem is, it’s the Dex Ultor thing innit?” he guessed, he asked around after he heard Vogel bring him up, nothing that came back was positive, and that’s who he reminded her of? He’d fucking leave that, Dex was no better than Warren Williams or Tanya Winters in his opinion. They had capitalised on what they had of course, but it wasn’t anything he wanted a part of. Boss smiled, and it was then that he realised he definitely made a mistake.

“Tell me some of your weaknesses, go.”

“Is this a job interview?” he asked.

“Go I said.” she insisted with a nod, and Pierce grinned nervously.

“I have no weaknesses, I told you, I just get it done.”

“Look, I’m not asking for childhood trauma, we’re not really there yet, but the fact that you can’t even tell me one lets me know I’m right.”

“What?” he asked confused, and she tilted her head to one side.

“You’ve got no self awareness.” she said, and Pierce laughed, he couldn’t help it, The Boss, the walking nuke was telling him he had no self awareness?

“I have loads of self awareness.”

“Great, then tell me a weakness.”

“You tell me your weakness.” he shot back, and Boss smiled and held out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Shea, I’m an arsehole whose only skill in life is basically hurting people. I also don’t know how to delegate-” she paused, her brow furrowing, “-I could go on for the craic like but you aren’t ready for that conversation.” she said as Pierce awkwardly shook her hand, she took it back then, gesturing towards him. “See? It’s not that difficult. If you want to be confident, be confident I love that, but I’ve been around the block as much as you have, and I have to ask why you decided to follow me if you’re just gonna tell me what I already know, doesn’t that waste our time at the end of the day?”

“I guess?” Pierce asked, shrugging, and she tilted her head again.

“Now lets hear what you’ve got, your real plan this time.”

        Now that took him by surprise, usually Boss only listened to his plans when Shaundi said it, but there she was, staring at him again, this time expecting him to say something.

“Er, I was thinking of doing like a bulk offer yeah? You buy so much, maybe like ten bags and you get one free or something?”

“What like a Buckstar loyalty card?”

“Yeah, we can make ‘em on the cheap once we have our template- plus, one thing I know is that people like to collect shit,” he said, pulling a piece of paper towards him and drawing a happy stick person with ten crudely drawn bags on their arms. Boss leaned forward, and it emboldened him, she was listening at least, not outright slating the idea.

“It could work.” she mused.

“I mean, what have we really got to lose right? If we get the market cornered, once the money is flowing, one or two bags here and there in the grand scheme of things isn’t going to make much of a dent in our potential earnings.” he said, drawing stick figures of him and Boss rolling in money. “We get rich, and we have a happy customer loyal to us, what do you think?” he asked, looking round at her. She thought for a second as Pierce waited on the edge of his seat, before she nodded.

“I like it.” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thank fuck for that. “You always had an interest in marketing, Pierce?”

“Nah, I just know what people like, I used to hit the library a lot at school, picked up a few Psychology books to read through and shit.”

“And how did you find Psychology?”

“Interesting, people are-well they are interesting. Oh!” he said, a sudden thought coming to him. “How about we spread a rumour that the Samedi curse their Loa Dust?” he asked and Boss tilted her head to one side.

“What if they aren’t superstitious.”

“Well we could always say it’s also cut with glass or bath salts.” he answered with a shrug, and a smirk pulled her lips upwards.

“Pierce, you’re a genius.” she said, and Pierce beamed, the compliment meaning more than he thought it would.

#Saints Row #rowvember2020 #pierce washington

[m0etenchandon]

Roger´s POV of Jealous (SMUT)

Summary: Roger´s POV of Jealous Warnings: SMUT (18+), angst, masturbation A/N: This is really short, but you guys wanted it so here it is! Roger and John are roommates in this setting. Thanks for reading! Word count: 1.4 K

Masterlist

Read Jealous first!

Roger was fuming as he drove over to the restaurant. Who did John think he was? Making a move on his ex-girl? That was out of order. Sure, he was the one to break up with you, but he hadn´t really realized his feelings for you until it was too late. He wasn´t even sure if he actually wanted to be with you. Okay, he did. But you were a bad match. You would always fight. The make-up sex was good though, perhaps that´s what he missed the most. Your body.

John wouldn´t sleep with you, would he? Roger shook the thought out of his head as he pulled up outside.

The date was fine, at least as long as it lasted. The girl had made up some stupid excuse to leave, claiming she had to go home and feed her cat. Roger knew for a fact she didn´t even have one, but he couldn´t be asked to argue. You were all that was on his mind. That was probably why his date left anyways.

Roger contemplated going over to Brian´s for the night instead of going home to face you and John, but he knew he had Chrissy over. Freddie was out for the night so that was not an option. He could always rent a hotel room, but it felt silly. It was his house after all.

However, he regretted his decision the second he stepped into the flat. He could hear the faint sounds of kissing before he even saw you two. But nothing could prepare him for the sight. John had you pinned against the wall, his lips trailing down you exposed chest. Your head thrown back in pleasure. Roger´s heart sank in his stomach.

Your eyes met his.

“Hi”, you said, pushing John away. Roger wanted nothing more than to punch John square in the face, but instead he held back his aggression, his knuckles going white from how hard he was clenching his hand.

“Y/N, John”, he said. Roger´s eyes fell on John, shooting him a mean look. But John didn´t seem too bothered, he only raised his eyebrows. Making Roger even madder.

“Thought you were out for the night”, John said, sliding his hand down to your ass. Fuck him. That ass used to be Roger´s to touch.

“She had to go, something came up”, Roger said, focusing his gaze on you instead. His eyes immediately softening. “I uh- don´t stop on my account”

Roger did mind, and you all knew it. But he didn´t want to cause a scene either. He knew it was over between you.

“Wasn’t planning to”

John started walking you towards the bedroom.

“Right”, Roger mumbled, drawing in a deep breath. He had fucked up.

Roger slammed the door to his room shut, throwing himself on the bed with a thud. He knew you were just on the other side of the wall, he could hear you talk. He couldn´t make out what you were saying, but when he heard the familiar noise of your moans, he groaned. God, he had missed those sounds, and he was fuming that he wasn´t the one who made you make them.

Roger couldn´t help but let his mind wander to the last time you had sex. It was after an argument, both of you riled up with aggression. The moans you made that night sounded just like the ones you were making now, and Roger´s cock started stirring in his pants.

He shouldn´t be doing this, absolutely not. But he couldn´t help but reach a hand down to palm his bulge. It just felt so good, and your moans were so hot. He could hear John too, but when he closed his eyes, all he could see was himself pounding into you.

Roger cursed under his breath, he had to cum. He fumbled with his belt, hearing your moans get louder and louder. When his cock was finally free of its restraints, he let out a sigh of relief. Roger wrapped a hand around his hard cock, using his pre-cum as lube. He twisted his hand around the tip before setting a steady pace.

The bed on the other side of the wall started banging against the wall, and Roger couldn´t help but let his hand follow the same pace. He was way too hot, a thin layer of sweat covering his entire body, but he needed the release. Fuck, he had hoped his date would let him shag her, but no such luck. He hadn’t slept with anyone since you, and it was definitely affecting his stamina. His balls already drawing up, the knot in his stomach tightening.

Roger heard John tell you that he was close, followed by a pretty moan. You were yelling for him to don´t stop, and Roger found himself unable too as well. He cupped his balls with his free hand, rolling them around in his grasp.

The second he heard that tell-tale moan you always made when you came, rope after rope of sticky hot cum shot out of his cock. It coated his hand, some of it dribbling down to his t-shirt. Shit, now that was ruined too.

Roger threw his head back, staring onto the ceiling. He had just jerked off to the sounds of his best friend fucking his ex. And if that was bad, he even had to leave his room when he heard you start to moan again. Roger decided on taking a shower, but memories of when you last joined him there almost made him hard yet again.

But what was even worse, was seeing John´s smug face the next morning. Roger was trying to enjoy a cup of coffee, when the brunette strode into the kitchen, all whistling and happy. His entire body radiating “I just had sex”.

“Good morning”, John said, walking over to the fridge. He pulled out ingredients for eggs and bacon. What Roger used to make you in the morning.

“Fuck off”, Roger mumbled, feeling his anger rising within.

“Look Roger, I´m sorry. And I´m sorry that you had to hear it, but you were the one who came home”, John said, cracking an egg into the pan. “You know how I feel about Y/N”

“And you know how I feel about her”

“You don´t have feelings for her, that’s why you dumped her. You just miss her body, and I get that. She´s an amazing shag”, John said. He knew it would piss Roger off, and he was right. Roger shot out of his chair, balling his fist in the air as he closed in on John. If looks could kill.

Roger would have punched him too if you hadn´t gotten in the way.

“Oh my god what are you doing, Roger?”, you yelled.

You slid in between them, staring up at Roger with those beautiful eyes of yours. He felt his heart sink in his chest. Those eyes used to be filled with love, now it was regret he saw I them.

“Deaky promised me he wouldn´t sleep with you”, Roger said. He instinctively reached out to place his hands on your waist, but you pulled them away. Looking up at him strictly.

Roger sighed.

“I heard you guys all fucking night”

“Actually I never promised, you just said she wouldn´t shag me”, John said, causing Roger´s attention to drift.

“I don’t fucking care, John. That’s my ex-girl, I still love her”, Roger yelled. He didn´t even realize what he said until it was too late, his eyes widening in panic. “Shit okay I do, I still love you, Y/N”

He could tell by your body language that you were upset, but it was true. He did love you, and he kicked himself for dumping you. What he wouldn’t give to take it all back. His heart sinking when he saw John slide his arms around your waist. You didn´t stop him like you did with him. Roger had been replaced.

“Oh, so now you love me? How convenient. Roger, you dumped me. Live with it. I´m an adult, if I want to be with John then I will. And I do”, you said, pausing to smile softly. “You blew your change. I´m sorry, Roger. We´re over”

Roger closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to be mature about it, he knew that. He didn´t want to cause a scene in front of you. So, he turned on his heel and left the house. Leaving his heart in a pile on the kitchen floor. It was his own fault.

Masterlist

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#my writing #roger taylor #roger taylor angst #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader smut #roger taylor imagine #john deacon #john deacon smut #fanfiction #roger taylor fan fiction #angst #smut

[aion-rsa]

How Midnight Sun Adds to Twilight Canon

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The following contains spoilers for Stephenie Meyer’s Midnight Sun.

As discussed in the review, by dint of being a retelling, Stephenie Meyer’s Midnight Sun doesn’t drastically change Twilight canon. (For that, check out Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined, Meyer’s gender-swapped rewrite of the first book that concludes with Beaufort Swan turning into a vampire to be with his immortal lady love Edythe Cullen.) However, it does expand our understanding of vampires through Edward’s perspective of his family: how each of the Cullens was turned, how they found each other, Edward’s personal struggle to follow Carlisle’s code of ethics, and how each Cullen interacts with Edward regarding Bella.

What Bella didn’t see in Twilight was how much Rosalie pushed back against Edward bringing a mortal into their family and tempting her to give up her humanity, and how Alice’s visions directly impacted his every move around Bella. In these Midnight Sun interactions, we also get a hint at Edward’s love life pre-Bella… or rather, his potential love life, as—surprise!—there’s not nearly as much as you would expect from a sexy vampire. Finally, Edward reveals more about his struggle with his vampire nature, and how he has made some peace with his bloody past.

Edward’s Talent and its Limits

One of the things that most draws Edward to Bella is that hers is the only mind that he can’t read, so he constantly feels off-balance around her. While he tells her as much in Twilight, in Midnight Sun he ponders what her parentage might have to do with it. It turns out that he also has difficulty parsing Charlie Swan’s thoughts; he can only get fleeting impressions or a few words here and there, as if there is a similar (though more permeable) shield. With Renée Dwyer, however, things are loud and clear—perhaps too loud, as Edward considers that even non-telepaths can probably at least intuit Renée’s thoughts and needs, the way that people seem naturally drawn to attend to her.

Alice’s Visions and Edward’s Dramatic Irony

The biggest “change” that Midnight Sun makes to the Twilight canon is the reveal that Edward knew almost from the beginning that Bella might one day become a vampire. Among the Cullen/Hale siblings, he and Alice are especially close due to their shared mental powers: As he can read her mind, that gives him a direct look into her visions. Concerning Bella, Alice sees a myriad of potential futures, but a few distinct paths stand out: Edward kills Bella. Edward leaves Bella, a blow to her emotional and physical well-being. Bella becomes a vampire.

The way Alice’s visions work is to first provide all potential futures, and then to quickly whittle down options, or clarify the major ones, through present actions. In real-time, through their arguments and debates over the Swan girl, Edward and Alice collaborate to figure out what is most likely to happen. While his taking Bella to the meadow eliminates the potential future in which he kills her—Edward has the attack of bloodlust that Alice predicted, but pushes through it—he can’t shake the likelihood that Bella will someday be a white-skinned, red-eyed, immortal creature.

This knowledge lends a dramatic irony to Midnight Sun, as Edward is constantly questioning whether his every action with Bella might tip the scales in one direction over the other. He, of course, does not share this dilemma with Bella, not wishing to encourage her toward the vampirism she claims to want. While Alice does let slip this vision by the end of the book, Edward struggles for as long as possible to give Bella as much free choice concerning her fate as he can.

With that in mind, Edward resolves by the end of Midnight Sun that he will live in the present in their relationship and resist the urge to peek at Alice’s visions:

I was taking our relationship one day at a time, one hour at a time. I didn’t look into the future. It was enough that I could feel it coming. When I promised her forever now, I meant as far as I could see. And I wasn’t looking.

But that’s simply a temporary solution to a permanent problem, and includes Edward trying to hide information both from Bella and himself. As he reflects to himself, he anticipates that something will happen to make him leave, and he doesn’t let Bella in on this fear. Instead, he tells her aloud that he will stay with her, then adds to himself:

As long as I can, as long as it’s allowed, as long as it doesn’t hurt you. Until the sign comes, until it’s impossible for me to ignore.

Which would seem to imply that he is not at all surprised at the events of New Moon, the “sign” to leave that he was already waiting for.

Edward’s Missing Week with Tanya and the Denali

After their bizarre first meeting in Twilight, Bella notices Edward’s absence from school for close to a week, before he reappears and saves her life in the parking lot. Midnight Sun reveals that Edward fled to Denali, Alaska, the Cullens’ former home and where their fellow vegetarian vampire coven still resides. It’s meant as a respite from Bella’s intoxicating scent, but it causes complications when vampire Tanya wonders if it means that Edward might have changed his mind about her romantic interest in him.

Alas for Tanya, despite her exquisite beauty, Edward has (amber) eyes for only one face. While they have a wistful conversation about how she wishes he would see her that way, ultimately Edward apologizes for “toying with [her] expectations” and actually draws inspiration from her relationships. After all, Tanya isn’t called a “succubus” for nothing; she’s had plenty of human lovers, many of whom lead long and healthy lives once Tanya learned to curb her bloodlust.

Though Bella eventually meets Tanya and the rest of the Denali coven in the later Twilight books, her cameo here fills in more of her one-sided romantic and sexual tension with Edward.

Cullen Family History

A lot of the Cullen family history comes out either during Twilight or certainly throughout the rest of the series, but because so much of Edward’s dilemma in Midnight Sun is about losing one’s humanity, he recalls how each of the Cullens and Hales joined the family.

To that end, the Cullens are unusual for having a family unit, as opposed to the more typical vampire coven. Covens might come together temporarily for a shared purpose and disband over disagreements, but a family is bound by deeper promises to one another: to lead a “vegetarian” lifestyle and maintain their treaty with the Quileutes by not draining human blood, but also to make decisions for the good of the family.

In contrast to how his telepathy makes him closer to Alice and her visions, Edward’s strained relationship with Rosalie gets explored more in Midnight Sun. As readers know, Carlisle turned her intending for Rosalie to be Edward’s mate, as Esme was for him, but despite her beauty, Edward wasn’t attracted to her. Instead, he saw her as a sister—at first in name, but then in action, the night she brought Emmett to the Cullens, near-death from a bear mauling, and begged Carlisle to change him to be her mate.

Despite this, they still clash over Edward’s choice of love in Midnight Sun—primarily because Rosalie is jealous of Bella. Left for dead by her ex-fiancé, immortality was the only option that Rosalie had, and she would give anything to have another chance at a human lifetime. So, Bella’s fervent desire to be turned feels to her like an utter waste. While these are sentiments that Rose expresses to Bella over the course of the Twilight series, Edward’s perspective delves deeper into his sympathy for Rosalie’s position, even if he resents her for not being willing to stick her neck out for Bella like the rest of the Cullens.

Edward’s Innocent/Guilty Victim

Edward understands Rosalie’s struggle with their vampire identity, and longing to be human, as he too has grappled with their bloodthirsty nature. As he tells Bella in Twilight, he had a bout of “rebellious adolescence” about ten years after becoming a vampire, in which he rejected Carlisle’s pacifism and left the family for a few years, to explore his baser instincts. Edward thought that because he could read humans’ minds, he could choose to kill only the guilty—rapists, murderers, moral monsters—and therefore “have it all” as a vampire with a conscience.

But while he admits as much to Bella, what he leaves unsaid is a big flashback upon which Midnight Sun expounds: September 1930, and his one victim who was technically innocent. In Milwaukee, Edward came upon a human man who was plagued with evil thoughts concerning a young girl in the tenement. Even as he repeated to himself, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t, he put together the resources and a plan to kidnap the young girl—the book doesn’t go graphically into his plan, but it’s easy to intuit that he intended to rape and murder her.

In the past, Edward had killed predators to ensure that they would not have a next victim; this time, he would be stopping a would-be monster before he took his first victim. Right as the man prepared to kidnap the girl, Edward captured him and killed him—serving the justice that the man had always subconsciously known he deserved.

In the end, Edward decided, even stopping humans from enacting evil on others was not enough to justify his killing them, and so he returned to Carlisle and the rest of his family.

Saving Bella

Readers get Edward’s side of the frantic chase after Bella and the tracker who lured her to a dance studio in Phoenix to kill her slowly in order to torture the Cullens—Edward, of course, but also Alice, his onetime victim who got away.

While Alice’s visions are the group’s lodestar for locating Bella before James kills her, Edward is so seized by vengeance that he could potentially alter their future to one of the scenarios where Bella dies. During their high-stakes chase scene in Phoenix, Jasper uses his talent of manipulating emotions to give Edward the empathic equivalent of a shot of novocaine: cold, numbing, and pushing aside pain so that he can focus on the job at hand.

Edward and Jacob

In contrast to his disdain for Mike Newton and the other human boys sniffing around Bella, Edward finds that he likes reading the mind of her friend Jacob Black: he considers the Quileute boy’s thoughts “engaging,” “pure and open,” and “restful.” Clearly he doesn’t see Jacob as a threat in Midnight Sun—at least, not at the beginning of the book. By the end, when Jacob cuts in to their dance at prom (to warn Bella that the Quileutes want her to break up with Edward and that they’ll “be watching” her and the Cullens), Edward notices with some surprise that the boy seems to have had a sudden growth spurt.

He also catches a curious thought from Jacob, about Bella having a weird perfume smell—something that Edward certainly didn’t notice. It’s all foreshadowing for Jacob’s werewolf transformation in New Moon, but it’s especially curious that Edward never catches on to the fact that his eventual rival for Bella’s heart is also a supernatural creature.

Persephone and the Pomegranate

The cover imagery for each side of the Twilight story provides some insight into the narrator’s impression of vampirism. For Bella, it’s an apple: the symbol of temptation, yes, but also of knowledge. A pair of hands hold the apple out, as if they have plucked it from the tree but haven’t yet worked up the nerve to take a bite. Bella’s journey in Twilight is taking that irreversible step toward knowing, because once she does, she won’t want anything else.

Where Bella sees potential, Edward sees consequence: Midnight Sun replaces the apple with a pomegranate that has already been split in two. Throughout the novel, he likens Bella to innocent Persephone, who eats half the pomegranate seeds and curses herself to spend half her life in the underworld with Hades, her (depending on the telling) lover and/or captor. Spurred on by the knowledge, via Alice’s vision, that there is a very possible future in which Bella becomes a vampire, Edward cannot stop obsessing over this metaphor and how, he believes, it would rob Bella of the joys of mortal life.

The Meaning of “Midnight Sun”

The first time that Edward realizes Bella is dreaming of him, and it’s not a nightmare, it challenges his self-perception the way nothing or no one else has in his near-century of life. He reflects:

My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?

It… reads like pretty bad teenage love poetry, but what he’s trying to say is that when he was turned, every part of him was frozen, including his sense of self and his desires. As the sun permeating his midnight, Bella is making him reexamine what he’s allowed to want.

It’s not quite as poignant as the meaning behind Twilight: “It’s the safest time of day,” he explains to Bella. “The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night.” But perhaps, as he seems to realize, if he pushes through to the deepest part of night, he’ll find a bright light to illuminate new parts of it he hadn’t noticed before.

The post How Midnight Sun Adds to Twilight Canon appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3gBivXN

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[twdbringmehome]

We are closer then ever before, and here is why.

I'll start off my post with the lyrics to Emily's new song called The Turtle and The Monkey. The version used in the episode has a slight variation from the lyrics and is sung by a male but it's her song.

I'm a lamb if you love me, but a lion if you poke and if we're gonna be laughin' I would like to be in on the joke

Sometimes I think you show me scabs just to tempt me to tear 'em away Makin' me draw blood, will never make me want to stay

Oh, it's sad but true, love is never enough And after just a few months we are not immune oh, we used to stay up late starin' in each other's eyes Now I'm wakin' early to call you up and apologize

I'm a turtle in the woods stickin' to my path you're like a monkey in the trees jumpin' from branch to branch I love the way you move, I love the way you Rock n' Roll but high jumpin' for a turtle is bound to take it's toll

Oh, it's sad but true, love is never enough and after just a few months we are not immune oh, we used to stay up late starin' in each other's eyes

Now I'm wakin' early to call you up and apologize and oh oh, it's a cold hard fact

We've served some colorful vocabulary, baby, that we can't take back

And oh oh, we used to hold each other tight under the sparkling trees

And oh oh, now you're beggin' for me back on your scraped up knees

And oh, oh, we used to spend all night starin' in each other's eyes Now I'm wakin' early to call you up and apologize

Back in the 3rd season we saw Beth singing twice, In season 4 was saw her sing twice again, and then in season 5 we saw her sing once.

Some might forget that Emily also sang in the trailer for the back half of season 6

Bonus- If you would like more info on this point you can search through @bethgreeneishopeunseen for a more in detail report.

The Songs Beth sang in chronological order are as follows

Season 3 episode 1-The Parting Glass, Beth sang this for the group before the cleared the prison. Daryl was present for this and it's the first time he hears her sing.

Season 3 episode 11-Hold On, Beth sang this song for the group as well when they were living at the prison Daryl is also there during Beth's song, which makes it the 2nd time he hears her sing. In addition to Daryl, Michonne is also there.

Season 4 episode 2-I Don't Wanna Grow Up, Beth is seen singing this to Judith at while she walks by Michonne's cell, Not only does this makes Michonne's 2nd time hearing Beth sing it is one of their only interactions between the two of them.

Season 4 episode 13-Be Good This marks the 3rd time Daryl hears Beth sing.

Season 5 episode 9-Struggling Man this song is durring Tyreese's, hallucination

Something I want to point out is that Daryl has heard Beth singing 3 times. I think that it would be cool if Daryl hears her singing and that is how they reunite

We also received a portrait of Beth back in season 9 at Hilltop based on a image of her from season 4 when she was on the run with Daryl after the prison fell. Still yet again it's another reminder of beth.

Also in season 9 Emily Kinney recorded a voice over line for Rick's final episode, in which Beth asks Rick "what's your wound" While Rick is experiencing his hallucination

I think it's interesting that Beth connects to both Tyreese's and Rick's hallucination

Also in the episode we see Beth's body although it's a body double and not Emily Kinney. However there is blood on her arm but not her head wound which is very suspicious

Side Profile of Beth and Amber

So now let's talk about some other things like Beth's proxy Amber and the unidentified blonde with the braid from the Sanctuary.

When it comes to Negan's wives Frankie is dead, and Sherry is out on her own around the area where Fear The Walking Dead takes place. Which leaves the whereabouts of both Amber and Tanya unknown. Which makes me wonder if Beth might have came across them somehow at some point.

The writers clearly want us to remember Beth and that's why they are referencing her with a Beth proxy so much.

I believe right now the significance of Emily's new song being featured is yet again a point in which they don't want us to forget her so they are of course leaving us clues.

Plus Angela Kang who is The Walking Dead's current Showrunner since last season, and the fact that she is responsible for some of the Bethyl storylines. So it would make even more sense for her to bring Beth back into the fold.

So now I only have one las point to make, but before I get to that I want to point out that the last time we saw Beth was in season 5 and we are now at the 10th season so I have a feeling everything has come full circle.

Here are Emily's two posts about her new song being featured in episode 5 of season 10.

To close out the post by hearing her song being used I have 3 different theories about when we could possibly see Beth again.

At the end of episode 8 of season 10, which would be a cliffhanger to keep us talking till February.

The mid-season premiere episode 9 of season 10

The Season finale of season 10 which would also be a bigger cliffhanger

#team defiance #twd #theories #teamdelusional #bethgreene #twd beth #bethyl #walking dead

[arigatouiris]

head over heels // b.b — [04]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; mentions of drugs and drug abuse and explicit sexual references; mentions of anxiety, depressive thoughts, suicide, post-traumatic stress; fluff [in later chapters]

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Word count: 1588

Author’s Note: So a bit about the mysterious reader is being revealed here. I love being cruel omg. Tell me what you think, guys! 

Those who want to be on the tag-list, do send me an ask~

04. pity

✿

Now, Bucky felt the thud of his heart increase whenever he noticed her eyes light up at him whenever he entered the coffee store. He’d come there, a morning after his night of dark secrets, secrets he was sure she would never approve of. She was the one bit of solace he would get on those mornings; and her silly artwork on his coffee proved to be their special something.

He didn’t know what this was. He didn’t want to name it, either. He was certain that if he named it, it would become true. Steve often checked up on him on most days, and now it had become a pattern. Bucky was aware of when Steve would come, and it was easy to keep his drug habits a secret from Steve. It wasn’t as if he wanted to lie to his best friend, but times were different for both of them. 

Steve was accepted in this world; Steve was Captain America, loved and revered as a hero. 

And he was the Winter Soldier; and even if he had fought in the war against Thanos, no one would remember that. They only remembered the man who had killed for Hydra.

Back in the 40s, he had only heard of the grass. Grass was something he had tried out as a teenager, and was thrilled with the high that it gave him then. Surrounded by his friends, giggling at something absolutely stupid.

Now? 

Now he was doing this to forget. The high was no longer the same; the high gave him no relief and no meaningless reasons to laugh. The high prevented him from crying, and robbed him of the energy to break himself into pieces. It threw his mind into a silent yet dark limbo, where it felt comfortable but was not healthy.

And now, it was not just the grass. It was much, much more.

Bucky stared at the white crystal that he was asked to crush before inhaling. For someone like him, he had realised that he lacked energy in doing anything right. There was take-over boxes sprawled all over his bedroom floor, his blanket was undone, and was probably covered with a layer of dust. The curtains were always drawn, something he was comfortable with since being a spy for Hydra. Sunlight tends to scare him, and he wanted none of it.

Steve had opened a bank account for him the other week. The bank gave him both a debit and a credit card, being an Avenger and everything, but did not cut back on the disapproving looks he was given by the bank staff. He felt ridiculed, but he knew he deserved it.

Now, he used the card to crush the crystal. He had seen the person who sold it to him use the crystal, and he knew how to do it in theory. Nevertheless, this would be the first time he’d venture into something like this. And he knew that once he set foot into this kind of place, there was no return.

But, did he want one?

Hi, Bucky.

His eyes widened as his gaze locked on the crystal. His jaw dropped just a tad bit before feeling his hands shake violently. Moving back in immense frustration, Bucky lit a cigarette to calm his nerves for the moment. This would be his fifteenth cigarette for the day, and it was only mid-noon.

That’s okay.

He breathed into the cigarette like his life depended on it.

Bucky, everything is alright.

He shut his eyes and tried to focus on anything but her.

I’m here.

Tears filled his eyes now as he moved about in his room, having no space to actually walk. There was so much trash stocked up in his room that he felt ashamed being himself. He wanted to be anyone but Bucky.

I’m here. Always. With your coffee.

Of all the drugs he thought he was addicted to, he was certain that she was the worst one yet.

✿

When she noticed Bucky walk in that morning, her body froze. He looked absolutely terrible. It was as if he hadn’t slept all night, not a wink, and hadn’t eaten anything. He looked like he was holding back tears and fighting them instead of whatever it was that was making him feel so bad. He looked like he had given up, and that there was literally no one on this earth that could convince him to try again.

She didn’t know why she thought she could do it right then. She saw him and then she saw herself from all those years ago. Her father had done that to her, brought her back when she thought the world was against her.

She would never tell him that it didn’t really help. She only grew to love him and she later pretended to be alright to please him; to make him feel better about his efforts. He would often talk about how better she was now that she had come to live with him, but she knew the truth. It was a lie, a plain white lie, and it had driven her farther and farther away from people.

However, her father did try. And the fact that he tried gave her the energy to at least pretend. Even though she knew pretending was not healthy, she was up and about, moving around, being as kind as she could (even though she knew she wasn’t), and providing coffee to people who needed it.

As Bucky sat down, she rushed over to him with his coffee. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her face was flushed red, and she hoped that he would not notice.

    “Good morning, Bucky.” She said, smiling widely.

She poured a cup of coffee onto his mug and then just as she was about to pour in the cream, Bucky stopped her.

    “That’ll be all. Thanks.”

His voice was cold. Her eyes looked up at his distressed face. She scrunched her eyes a bit before trying to figure out what it was that had made him this way. There would be no drawing today, there would be no nice pleasantries. There would only be an awkward silence, which Bucky believed he couldn’t repair.

    “You’re welcome, Bucky.”

Bucky almost visibly winced at how nice she sounded. He couldn’t look up at her to see if she was looking at him lovingly, he couldn’t face her after he had just snapped at her.

He didn’t deserve her, even if she did have secrets.

Just as she turned to leave, she noticed a slight yellow near his fingertips. He raised the cup to drink from it, and it was then that her eyes landed on his fingertips—the yellowing ends. She knew what it was, she knew what the yellowing meant. 

Her heart fell to the ground as the realisation hit her, as to what could have happened, and walked back to the counter. It was another weekday, another slow day.

(y/n) knew depression had faces. 

Depression has many faces, faces people tend to hide; faces people would show to only a few others, hoping for a comforting hand or a warm soul to hold them as they try to unmask that face. Faces that never let them be themselves, and even if they knew they were going down a wrong path, that face never let them see the light of day. She had worn depression’s face for far too long to know what it can do, and here she was, witnessing the same face she had worn on Bucky.

She had known he was the Winter Soldier from the first day he had set foot into the cafe. However, any sign of recognition would have sent him away. Even now, she knew that if she didn’t approach him well enough, she’d only scare him away.

After Bucky’s third cup of coffee, (y/n) sat down across him. This surprised him and he looked up at her as if she was doing something wrong.

    “I knew you were the Winter Soldier from the first day.”

Bucky’s breath sharpened, and his gaze hardened.

    “So, all of this was just pity then?”

(y/n) shook her head. “You know that’s not true.”

    “I don’t know what I know, doll.” Bucky said, looking back at his cup.

(y/n) was quiet. The need to help him came out of nowhere. So, she did the one thing she had promised she would never do.

    “You blame yourself for the deaths of many people,” (y/n)’s breath was shaky, something Bucky noticed. He looked up at her alarmed, “You think you are stuck here, in a noisy limbo, with no escape. You think you’re all alone. You think no one understands you because they’ve not seen what you’ve seen. Not done what you’ve done. And you think that you will always be ashamed.”

Bucky’s breathing increased. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack. Who was this woman? What was happening? He leaned back and stared at her wide eyed, one hand still holding the coffee cup.

A moment later, her hand rested on his and she gave him an earnest look. Suddenly, (y/n) became the only beautiful face he knew.

    “Please trust me when I say this, Bucky,” She squeezed his hand just a bit more, “You’re not alone.”

Freak!

You’re a monster!

You should have burned with them!

(y/n) closed her eyes, trying to tune out the sound.

✿

series taglist:

@miamua-posts  @yourwonderbelle @kissingg-incars @tanya-diggory @s-0-ldat @iheartsebastianstan @taliarosej00 @coraz0ndcristal @vlogsquadbss @azriels-forgotten-shadow @gogoca @undiadeestos @justtrynagetthroughlife

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #avengers #steve rogers #reader insert #head over heels #mcu #marvel #natasha romanoff

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Fire (Alec Volturi x Reader)

You didn't know how long it had been since the fire started but your whole house was no engulfed in flames as you sat cross legged on your kitchen floor in complete shock. You didn't call anyone but weren't too surprised to see Carlisle, Emmett, Jasper, the Romanians, Benjamin and the Denali's through the hole where your door once was. "(Y/N)! Get out of there!" Emmett yelled. You looked up from the surrounding flames. "I didn't meant to..." You said. "(Y/N)! Get out of there now!" Jasper yelled. "They warned me about this..." You sobbed. "Alec was worried I'd do something." "(Y/N)! Listen to me!" Carlisle tried a different approach. "It's not safe for you to be in there!" "That's the thing Carlisle...fire doesn't hurt me." You put your hand in the closest roaring flame next to you. "I know! I know, but the house is going to collapse! It isn't stable in there, you have to move!" 

In that moment, as though to prove a point, a chunk of the ceiling collapsed in front of you that made you jump. You suddenly understood and had snapped out of your daze. You scrambled to your feet as more of the ceiling above crashed down and blocked your exit. You heard glass shatter around you before locking eyes with Kate from the outside as she lunged and drove her first through the window, shattering it immediately. You were out of time and knew what you had to do. You took a running start and threw yourself out of the opening Kate had created. You landed on the grass, barely aware of the mild scratches you had from the jagged glass shards remaining of the window. None were deep enough to really draw blood, you were lucky. It was then that you heard sirens. "(Y/N), we need to get you out of here!" You heard Jasper call out but didn't catch who had picked you up.

Carlisle put you down as he locked eyes with Esme who stared wide eyed from inside the Cullen home. She hurried away from the window in a flash as Carlisle pulled you to the house. "Come and I'll see to these wounds." The others lingered outside but soon dispersed. "This was very lucky, you barely got a scratch." Carlisle dabbed at the long scratch down your arm. The cotton was mildly tainted with red but as he said, no drops of blood. "Why are the others here?" "Visiting Renesmee."

You were surprised by the response considering the Romanians were also there. You could hear the news in downstairs which you had no doubt was reporting the fire. Once you were cleaned up, you found you were correct. Emmett and Jasper were watching the news intently as it reported a house fire and ultimate collapse of the house. Your home was completely destroyed but they were happy to report there was no one in the house when it caught ablaze. However the cause of the fire was still unknown. "We could smell it." Tanya said to you as Emmett and Jasper acknowledged you with a nod on the sofa. "I don't even know what happened..." You trailed off. "Esme is calling Volterra as we speak. She's going to leave a message to let Alec know what happened." Rosalie said, her hands clasped in front of her with a gentle voice. "More than that, Alec's calling back right now." Alice declared and as such in as the sentence left her mouth, a ringing came from the other room. You heard Esme's heels head down the hall before the ringing stopped.

Later, Carlisle entered the room with Esme. "How are you feeling?" "Is it bad? Did anyone get hurt?" "No. We have planted a source of the fire." Esme took a seat beside you. "(Y/N), you need to tell us what happened." Carlisle joined you both, keeping his voice mellow. "I don't remember, I was day dreaming. One minute I was staring at a candle that was left in the kitchen, the next, everything was up in flames." You seemed helpless, just as eager for answers as they were. "Well, you should know that Alec has been in touch. The Volturi would like you to stay with them." Esme put a gentle hand on your shoulder to reassure you. "He's very worried." You nodded slowly. "I'll go."

Heidi locked eyes with you and beckoned you over with a smile. You were surprised to see her outside when the sun was beaming down but then again, she was completely shaded and the layout of the tour line didn't make it seem unnatural. "It's so good to see you, darling. If you wait in the reception, you'll be seen to once the tour is finished." You knew what that meant. That meant, you'd be seen to once they'd all ate, reducing the chances of someone taking a bite. You nodded, with a forced smile, uncomfortable to see the long line of oblivious humans gawking and pointing at their surroundings. You opened the door and stepped inside. It was cold, a complete contrast to outside, as well as darker but that wasn't too surprising considering the castles occupants.

You sat on a bench, looking around and no more than five minutes later, Heidi, followed by many humans walked by. "This way, please. Stay together!" She called back cheerily. When passing, she shot her smile at you. You tried not to think too hard about where they were going and that they wouldn't be coming back. You rubbed your eyes and you heard more footsteps. Felix and Demetri, turned the corner and it was only when Demetri looked back that the two noticed you. "Oh hello, (Y/N). I didn't expect you'd be here so soon. How was your flight?" Demetri asked as the two towered over you. "Long." You smiled weakly. "I hate planes." The two seemed to find that amusing. "Well, we won't keep you long. You know how it is." You nodded again. "Yeah, I understand." "Speaking of which, we better go or we won't get to feed." Demetri nodded to you before the two continued to the elevator. "See you soon, (Y/N)!" Felix called back with a slight wave on his hand.

It was a long wait, yet it wasn't long enough. Your mind was turning over the many humans who were dying in that moment and you gave nothing of a warning. The receptionist didn't say a word, the only sound being her typing on the keyboard with light taps. You didn't even realize when she had gotten up and was bent over you slightly, holding out a plastic cup of water. "Thank you." You took the cup gratefully and she nodded at you with a smile before turning to her desk. The water helped a little. After thirty minutes, you were stunned to see Heidi lightly jog up to you but you caught her discreetly wiping the corners of her mouth. "Our sincerest apologies, we'll be taking a little longer but we are aware that you must be feeling tired. If you come down this hall, we can take you to a more suitable area to rest." 

Heidi led you down a hall and into small room. It was well decorated, modern, and had a few soft sofas. However, the Volturi had no need for this so you wondered if this was more of a pointless room that needed to be filled. You sat on the furthest couch as Heidi encouraged you to rest, setting a nearby folded blanket beside you with the final assurance that they'd try to be as quick as they could. You couldn't stay awake when you buried yourself under the blanket and left alone in silence. You told yourself this was no time for sleeping but you continued to fall into a dreamless sleep.

You heard hushed voices. "Yes, Jane. I'm going in now...very well." You were driven out of your sleep when the door shut even though you weren't awake enough to have heard it open. You cracked your eyes open to see Alec steadily moving towards you. He pulled a grimace. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was hoping not to wake you." "Alec?" "Who else, sleepy?" Alec sat in the space by your stomach, just in front of your curled up legs and smoothed your hair. "How long have I...?" You trailed off. "The safe estimate is about two hours. We hadn't fed for a while prior which made quite a mess." Alec absent-mindedly tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. "You don't need to worry about that. It's all clean now and my attention is on you. Which brings us to the point, are you alright? No burns? No physical injuries?" He looked you up and down. You lifted your sleeve and sections of your top to show him your scratches. "No burns, fire can't hurt me but a few cuts from the glass." You said nervously. "Glass?" Alec's brow furrowed. "I threw myself out of a window to get out. The building was going to collapse." You immediately jumped at his alarmed look. "Don't worry though. These make it look a lot worse than it is." You had meant for it to comfort Alec...but it didn't seem like it did much comforting. "What's going to happen to me?" You asked Alec, your voice quiet. "Aro will inspect you and you'll be changed. Your in a better environment with people that could help you. All we ask is little trust." He explained looping your arm on his before leading you to the throne room.

Aro was determined that changing you would be the best course of action and working from there. However, once changed, you completely lost control. It was like trying to use your talents in a body that wasn't your own. It was out of sync and awkward. The biggest flames occurred when you were in a trance like state, forcing yourself to day dream.

Caius then wanted you under supervision at all times-after you nearly set one of the rooms ablaze-which meant you were there when trials went ahead. This guy, whoever he was, really made you uncomfortable. Something just didn't sit right about him. The prisoner lunged at you. Somehow you felt more than prepared for him. In fact, you loved that he had chosen to pick a fight with you. Just as he grabbed you by the upper arms you had locked your own grip on his arms. A sizzling was heard and the prisoner screeched trying to wretch himself away from you but to no avail. You were a newborn and so much stronger than he anticipated. Your stare was locked onto him as he suddenly was engulfed with flames. He screamed as you let go. He flailed around in agony as you watched stoically, seemingly in a trance.

The Volturi watched the scene in slight alarm, their gazes racing back and forth from the burning vampire to you until finally he vampire collapsed to the ground. Alec stepped in front of you, pressing his cold hands to your face. "(Y/N)?" His hands and the sound of his voice slowly broke your trance. You blinked a few times, trying to remember what had just happened. "Is he gone? Is-" You gasped in horror to see the charred remains of a vampire behind Alec. You staggered back but was quickly halted by Alec who had taken hold of your upper arms. "What did I do!? What have I done!?" Alec shushed you calmly. "Look at me." You couldn't tear your eyes from the charred remains. "Sweet face, look at me." Alec quietly pleaded. "Calm down. Everything is alright. Focus on me." "I'm sorry! I didn't meant to!" "I think we've found a use for (Y/N)." Caius said darkly with a sickening grin. "(Y/N), stay focused on me. It's alright, everything is alright." Alec pressed his hands to your face making sure you looked no where but him. "I'm going to take you somewhere else okay?" Alec began walking you out the room, releasing your face and wrapping his arms around around you.

The next day was rather peaceful until Felix burst into your room. "Alright kid, ready to work some magic?" "This is a terrible idea." You shook your head at the candle in front of you. "I've been setting fires as tall as doors since I got here. What makes you think I'll ever be able to light a candle?" "because you've done it before." Demetri walked around you and bent down to your level of the chair you sat on. "You’ve been distracted since you got here. The more distractions, the less focus, the larger the flame to anything. Those curtains last week can testify to that. You didn't get a new body, (Y/N). Your body got better. This isn't about expanding you power. It's the opposite, it's limiting it, bending it to your will." "I've never lit a candle with my eyes though. I always did this." You lifted the candle out of it's holder and sure enough with your palm at the bottom a very large flame grew upon the candle." "So don't use your hands and use it with your eyes." Demetri didn't budge and so you sighed, putting it back. You didn't know where to even begin. How was anyone certain that you wouldn't just be embarking on a staring contest with a candle? One that you could now never win nor lose. You huffed but focused on the candle as best you could, using the silence to your advantage. 

"(Y/N), that's your left arm." Demetri said. "What?" You looked down and sure enough a large flame was dancing up your arm. You huffed and batted at the flame, extinguishing it. "Try again, don't think about us. Forget we're even here." He might have been on to something, they were on your left and you were very aware of their presence. You focused again. Your brow furrowed before slowly relaxing something felt familiar and gradually a small flame sat on the wick of the candle. You gasped. "I did it! Aww.." your celebration was over quickly for it went out immediately. Demetri chuckled. "Again." You didn't see Demetri mouth something to Felix who smiled and left. You flapped your hands, preparing yourself. "Right screw the candle. I need something a little bit bigger to work with." You moved onto your knees and held out your hands, staring down at them. "What are you doing?" "Shhh!" You hushed him brashly, not taking your eyes from your hands. Slowly, a flame as wide as your palm grew. "Are you using your hands?" Demetri asked. "No. It doesn't feel the same. I feel it in my head. If I was using my hands, I'd feel it in my hands." You became aware of another presence to see both Felix and Alec in the door way. You gave them a small smile before looking down. Alec saw how the fire danced in your eyes. The flame in your hand was oddly calming, flickering ever so slightly.  Your progress picked up quickly after that. The more you understood of your new body, the easier it had become to use your gift.

50 years later...

Caius turned to you with a nod. Both Alec and Jane on either side of you. You stared at the vampire that lay in pieces and within a second. A fire reflected in your eyes and immediately after, a fire grew on the body parts and continued to do so. The fires light reflected in your gold Volturi crest which lay just an inch below the ribbon of your black as night cloak, which you had most certainly earned.

#twilight #volturi #reader #one shot #oneshot #alec volturi #the cullens #carlisle cullen